Alement

There were many situations in which Citrine had always been prepared for in her time before the Ashen King: rogue monster attacks, ambushes along the roadside, and everything in between. She never would know when they'd come after all, so she'd always be ready to adapt if the need arose.

Yet even with that—

*clink* "Fufu, you damnable lovey dwarf! Do you truly believe yourself capable of matching up to moi?"

The table shook with a fist. "Hmph! I already know you have me beat in tolerance. Don't rub it in, twink."

—she had not anticipated this.

The half-elf sat awkwardly at an outdoor table, fiddling with her own drink as she waited for her two comrades to calm down. Lights and cheers abounded as the two of them were locked in some man-to-man competition, gazes locked as they both downed ale after ale.

After her meet-up with Durma, she'd mentioned Ferris needing time to herself, and so to kill some time, they'd decided to slip among the festivities briefly. They could catch up over drinks, and perhaps even discuss a few curiosities that had arisen in her mind over the years.

Another round of laughter shook the air as onlookers placed bets on alchemist versus druid. If any of them realized who they were, they didn't show, instead more focused on which man would end up tapping out first.

Citrine's ears flattened in embarrassment and amusement at the two. Larkspur had arrived not long after they'd found their table, and after some snarky words were exchanged, it'd somehow devolved into this as they waited for two hours to run its course.

"…you seriously betting on that stick? I can understand if it were a contest about being pounded, but pounding back ale? Hah!"

"…you didn’t hear the dwarf? He himself said the guy had better stamina. Just cause he looks like a bear doesn’t mean he drinks like one…"

Citrine covered her face with one of her palms, trying to douse the growing migraine within her skull. Both men had already downed ten pints of the stuff, and at this rate, she wasn’t sure if either would be able to meet Ferris, let alone stand.

This had to stop.

"Durma! Larkspur! Put down the mugs! I think you've both had enough fun for the night."

No response. Her pointed exclamation was swallowed up within the din of the crowd.

"…" Blood began to heat as she continued eyeing them. Sure, it'd been a long while since the two had indulged such, and she didn't begrudge them wanting to cut lose a little, but this had tipped into the realm of irresponsibility about five cups ago.

Magic began to course through her veins, a dim pain squeezing her chest as she got up to approach closer.

"Durma! Larkspur! I am not jesting. You need to be presentable—"

Flamboyant hand slammed into the tabletop. "Ack! Not fair! How did you manage to pack away an eleventh one already?!"

A bearded grunt in response. "Used to it. Good for the bones. Helps that I have a gut to match too. Anyways, want to see a twelfth one disappear too—"

He didn't get to finish the question before the ground quaked beneath their feet, cobblestone appendages rising to wrap themselves around the two's wrists.

Golden eyes glowered amongst the geomancy.

"That's. Enough."

The message cut through the revelry effectively, causing several onlookers to back away from the display. The two men in question also seemed to get it, sheepishly refusing to meet her gaze.

"Seriously. I expected this from Larkspur, but you, Durma? Why did you allow him to goad you?"

Neither responded audibly. Instead, guilt drifted through the faded sounds of celebration, the crowd parting to give the trio some space.

"…wait, did that pointy-eared lass say that right? Aren't those the names of the heroes…?"

"…pft, yeah right. There's no way our saviors would be lame enough to be wrangled like children…"

Citrine's anger rose slightly at the comments circulating, but she held firm, motioning for the two to follow as her magic receded to the earth.

"Come."

They managed to escape the muttering in silence as bets were distributed in moans and curses, eventually coming to stop within a quiet alley on the outskirts of the festival.

The half-elf leaned against the building, quietly judging the recklessness of two of her closest friends.

"Have we really fallen this much in five years?"

Larkspur grimaced, heat flushing to his face from both embarrassment and alcohol. "Apologies, dear. I might've gotten a bit too carried away in the excitement."

The dwarf nodded alongside him. "Aye. I echo that. Got too swept up in the theatrics."

Her expression softened at the accountability, and she deflated, frustration dissipating into the sky. "As long as we're all on the same page. Although, now that we finally have a quieter moment…"

Citrine's gaze shot back toward the inn that Ferris was in, noting that two hours were just about over at this point.

The alchemist flipped one of his twin braids backward, allowing his neck to breathe slightly. "Shall we spring the surprise on our dear warrior then? Let her know our fabled group is back together once more?"

"That's the plan. Although you and Durma still haven't told me what else is up your sleeves. Care to share now?"

The stout man grunted in reply. "No need, it's rather straightforward anyway. You'll understand by tomorrow. The both of you."

"I… alright," she relented, still confused. "Let's just go, the inn is this way. You two are at least sober enough to walk, correct?"

"Correct~" Larkspur replied, doing an elegant swirl around his tiptoes, a slight wobble belying the facade. "I'm very much ready to see her reaction. She always gave such cute looks whenever she was flustered. Oh, I do wonder what face she'll make once—"

"If you mention in any capacity about foreseeing this, I've already warned you of the fate that will befall you," Citrine cut in, the lightest of smiles forming unseen on her lips.

"Pfft. Then you already know my course of action. Yes, please~!"

***

Their journey back was uneventful—unless one counted the stairs a challenging encounter, and soon enough they found themselves standing before the room's door. Clunk dutifully saluted the three of them and enraptured Larkspur, happily drawn to prodding and poking the construct while a certain half-elf's heart beat rapidly within her chest.

Despite the unkempt chaos of the past hour and a half, there was a sense of excitement in this. It wasn't every day that a party of saviors got to reunite after all, even less that one of them was going through a crisis of identity.

Yet…

Citrine hesitated to knock, the image of Ferris's nervousness earlier resurfacing in her mind.

What exactly had the warrior been doing? Had she been given enough time?

"Oi, let me try." The druid nudged her aside at the indecisiveness, stoicism softened with alcoholic overconfidence. "I'm good at this sort of thing."

Durma raised his fist, and in one quick motion, tenderly rapped against the wood, almost sounding like an instrument rather than a knock. The sound echoed, and a few moments later, a familiar voice called out from within.

"C-Citrine? Is that you? Um, please give me just one more minute. I'm almost done."

The half-elf's ears twitched at the sound. There was something off about it, the tone shakier than she'd gotten used to since their reunion. "Ferris, is everything okay in there? Do you need any help?"

"I'm fine. I promise." A queer strain was audible, like her throat was trying to compensate for something that didn't exist. "Just, uh, please, one last minute."

Before she could give any response, a strange reverberance of mana burned through the air for just a moment. It wasn't from Citrine though, but from within the room, and it felt sickenly familiar for a reason lost to her.

"Wait… Ferris?"

The woman didn't answer, the aura of magic flashing a second until it abruptly ended, like a candleflame had just been snuffed, likely not even long enough for the other two to notice.

Citrine's blood ran cold at the silence, a creeping sense of fear beginning to grow. She stepped closer, pressing an ear against the entry in hopes of hearing something, anything.

But it opened before she could.

"!" She fell inward, tumbling and colliding into a body that was so very comforting now, her head coming to rest against the soft-firmness of abdomen and steadied by a pair of hands that felt large against her form.

"I'm sorry, Rockelf." The warrior's voice was back to her usual cheer, although the words were muffled by an emotion she couldn't quite place. "I'm ready now though. If you'd like we can—"

Ferris paused once her eyes met the two other silhouettes in the entryway. Her eyes widened, and she froze, any words momentarily stolen away from her.

"L-Larkspur, Durma, is that you?! I-I figured something might be up with Durma from that scroll, but to see you both here is…"

She trailed off as the two men approached, the alchemist's smile bright and the druid's face softer than usual.

"Surprise, my dear friend," Larkspur cooed, his acute eyes examining the woman, traveling in particular over the curves and elegant lines of her new form. "Oh my goodness, you look absolutely stunning—radiant!"

The dwarf nodded, his beard shifting slightly as he regarded Ferris. "You look well, always appreciated women with some punch. How's it been?"

"I…" Ferris's eyes glazed slightly, as if she the casual words had validated her entire existence. "You guys… You actually think I'm…"

She couldn't finish, a sob choking her throat as she sank to her knees. The others hurriedly followed suit, surrounding the crying ogrelyn in an embrace.

"Come on, dear." The alchemist stroked her hair softly, his expression gentle. "The door is still open. I'd rather keep this adorable face private to us."

The warrior slowly stood up, her cheeks dampened by tears as she nodded. "R-right."

They gently guided her to one of the room's beds, sitting her down before closing the door and locking it shut, Clunk taking up post again, this time inside. Citrine watched as the two men sat beside the ogrelyn, her own heart aching as she did her best to not get swept away completely by the scene.

There was an urge to give into the sentiment, allow herself to be overwhelmed by the raw display of love and support. But that surge from the earlier was still imprinted in her mind, and she'd yet to piece together what it was, why it'd felt so foreboding.

"…" But conversely, it clearly wasn't the moment to bring it up either. So she decided to wait, observing as sniffles and affirmation gave way to giggles and laughs, and then to indignation and banter as the two men began to tease their warrior for her sudden shyness.

Ferris's face was red, her cheeks flushed, and her eyes glistened with tears as her comrades poked and prodded at her, yet a smile brighter than the sun broke out from within her.

The half-elf sighed, scooting over the chair to sit across from them, content to watch the scene from the side and listen to their conversation.

Warmth radiated from her chest as the moments turned to minutes, and sincereness devolved into the typical antics of their group, such as the prophesized strangling of Larkspur once he tried to crack some remark about foresight.

She sincerely hoped the creeping dread in her heart was nothing more than paranoia.