Celebratory Sitdown

I once again found myself at Mitriv’s Mimic Café, where our group had quickly become regular patrons. And not just first-name-basis customers, either, but the ones where the baristas began mixing our usuals the moment we walked through the door. Even our living booth fluffed up its pillows as we approached, eagerly awaiting the familiar feel of our bodies—something equal parts erotic as it was comforting.

The triop appeared to be overjoyed with the familiarity, which was great for them. Meanwhile, my overactive imagination and trauma-induced hyper-vigilance nibbled at the back of my mind, reminding me that constantly returning to the same location made us predictable. 

I pushed those thoughts down, though. Now wasn’t the time to harp on that after all, since we were celebrating our several successes. That said, I also feared looking too deeply into the reasons I liked to avoid being predictable, concerned that might bust a hole in the ol’ mental dam I had been doing well to be mindful of.

Better kick this thing off right. I thought, shaking the thoughts as the barista brought over our mid-afternoon favourites.

“I want to start by congratulating the three of you,” I hoisted my spiked espresso into the air, “You all really pulled it together over this last month. There was not a single failing grade! On top of that, your combat movements have become so synchronized in such a short time that it's kind of scary. And to top it all off, we’ve stomped every upperclassman that has come to put us down! So with that, cheers to the Misfits of Al’Magi!”

“Still don’t like that moniker.” Rionriv bemoaned, lifting her bright pink cocktail to meet mine.

Aesandoral quickly raised her stein full of a thick golden mead. She licked her lips in embarrassment, having already begun her indulgence before I started speaking. Seeing this, Sharzin followed the trend, hoisting a curious glass split into two distinct colours. As the liquid moved, a small storm seemed to brew between the colours before settling down a moment later. And with everyone's drinks up, I pushed my coffee forward, our glasses colliding with a satisfying clink before everyone continued to indulge.

After a big swig of the alcoholic cold-brew, I responded, “What about Ishara’s Angels?”

“Mmmhmm—not better,” Sharzin spoke up, quickly emerging from her glass. “Think again.”

“Yeah, I actively hate that one.” Rionriv also added.

“Okay, we’ll workshop it.”

With a slight chuckle to kick off the afternoon, we spent a good long while resting, drinking, and enjoying ourselves. The pleasant conversation drifted casually between us as everyone chatted about classes, training, and student gossip. Of that, most of which was typical school rumours, like how the cheerleading triop of mean girls known as ‘The Jessicas’ had been extra hard on one of the underclassmen coeds because of a suspected romantic jealousy.

My ears perked up as Aesandoral and Rionriv whispered about some rumblings around odd things happening in certain administration buildings at night. Strange sights and sounds, which I knew could be in reference to the extra-curricular work I’d been sending Sharzin out to do. When this came up, both the rogue and I fell quiet, instead deciding to take our time eating and listening intently. 

One rumour that had caught my attention was that DJ Demilich had closed her 125-year-old Dwindlefyre Discotek to begin touring the world with her two brothers and another triop of strange characters. Of course, I already knew this was not idle gossip because it was, in fact, a significant plot point in the story of the world. One that we would be using to our advantage in just a few short weeks.

“It’s funny you bring that up,” I spoke up at this point.

Ah, yeah, that’s a smooth segue. I drunkenly thought to myself.

“Do you know why they’re really on tour?”

“Because a hundred years in Dwindlefyre must be pretty boring?” Rionriv chirped in reply.

Damn! That’s literally why Deborah-Jo left. Rionriv should be a detective. Maybe move to the Termine and be a noir femme fatale. God, that would be so hot—no, fug, focus up!

“No!” I blurted out in a drunken attempt to save face. “Phyllis hired them to set up her ‘Magosdromes’ in every major city, continentwide.”

“Magosdromes?” Aesandoral asked as she unconsciously scratched the side of her glass.

A toothy grin stretched across the opaque bottom of the container, as it began panting as though it were a dog. I eyed this for a moment, slightly weirded out, before continuing.

“Yeah, they’re essentially teleportation circles that will link the capital cities of each region with Phyllis’ shoppe in Dwindlefyre—a literal international airport with duty-free shopping!”

Rionriv rolled her eyes, “There you go, speaking nonsense again.”

“Wait, we'll be able to return to Goodshore without taking a boat?” Aesandoral placed her mug down. “Like, instantly travel there?”

“I mean, eventually, yeah. But I don’t think the Goodshore Magosdrome will open until the Summer Solstice or the month before.”

Aesandoral, releasing a relieved sigh at this information, slumped her shoulders as she slid deeper into her seat. Noticing her relief, I drunkenly decided this was the proper time to gently probe her for additional information.

“Why do you ask? You want to go home that badly?”

“The opposite.” She mumbled, sinking far enough into her seat to almost become parallel with the floor. “Sure, I miss home, but Mama has been wanting me to stop by so we can begin talking about my post-school betrothal. So far, I’ve dodged it because that’s a month’s travel by boat one way.”

Reaching up, she took hold of her stein and drew it close enough to gulp the remains of her drink before releasing an expressive sigh. “And no thanks to any of it!”

My heart raced at the idea of Aesandoral being married to someone. I hated the thought of her not adventuring with her friends or, more pressingly, not being in a place where I could admire her beauty. But, I did well to calm my aching heart, feeling the dam of my mind wanting to give way at the briefest thought of proposals and marriage. The thoughts hung to me in my drunken state, weighing heavily on my heart as though a weight had begun to crush me.

So, giving my head a shake, I instead mentioned the other problem with her statement, hoping it would centre me.

“If your mom’s who I think she is, she could just have someone teleport here and take you at any time. You realize that, right?”

Aesandoral looked down into her drink and became quiet. Guilt washed over her face as she realized something before she muttered into her mug words of agreement.

“Maybe the conversation won’t be bad?” I reassured her, feeling my own guilt set in for dampening her mood. “Anyways, so about these magosdromes—”

Oufah—not a good segue. Oh well, already said it. Roll with it.

“The plan is to take the portal to Ter’aquit after finals for our Solstice Dungeon Dive.”

“What?!” All three of them responded anxiously.

Adjusting herself to be better facing me, Rionriv spoke up, “B-But Winter Solstice quests are usually held on campus due to—”

“Travel constraints, well, not anymore.” I replied, “We will be one of two groups doing our Solstice quest abroad this year.”

“Do you think we’re ready?” Sharzin asked, gently placing her empty drink on the table.

“You’ll definitely be ready, one hundred percent,” I reassured as I finished my coffee. “Anyways, we’ll be diving into Talir’sahn’s Eastern Operating Base and clearing it of bandits and monsters alike. There’ll be plenty of loot to fill our bags, lots of antique equipment that we can exchange for favours, and, best of all, a horde of gold and gems at the lowest level guarded by a chimera!”

“A what?!” All three shouted, drawing the attention of the two other people in the café.

“Shh!” I strained, eyeing the unfamiliar figures suspiciously before turning towards my actively debating companions.

After quieting them down and ordering another round of drinks, I went over the basics.