The Game

“You said we could play while resting in Fearnemyst,” Rionriv demanded, holding her drink up for the waiter to refill. "We're in Fearnemyst, and I have questions."

Staring at her drunken determination, reality began to settle in that I had reached the end of the line, and there was no escaping her inquiry. My mind raced with the thoughts of what horrifically probing twenty questions she had planned to ask me.

“Now, Ri?" I asked in an attempt to deflect. "Like first thing in the—”

What fugging time is it—?

“Mid-morning?” I guessed.

“Yes,” She responded in kind as the waiters poured her a stiff drink. “And, how about this, you can ask me any question in return. I am feeling like a generous queen today.”

The new prospect changed things in my mind, causing a devious grin to form at the opportunity to learn more about Rionriv. The other girls had thus far been fairly open books about their likes and dislikes—well, Aesandoral had been. Sharzin, on the other hand, was more or less in the camp of having no book. Though when it came to having a book to be read, Rionriv was particularly closed off.

“A generous queen, you say?" I spoke, raising my mug to the servants for a top-up. "Well then, your majesty, you’re on. Every question you skip, you drink. And no sips! Big gulps. The first one out of booze loses.”

Rionriv grimaced as a sudden look of concern washed over her face at my surprising eagerness to participate. Nonetheless, as a woman with questions she wanted answered, the sorceress steeled herself before smirking back at me.

“Deal. And to make sure we're being honest, how about some insurance?"

Reaching over the table, Rionriv scribbled a quick design atop the wood. I glanced over at it, unfamiliar with the spell until the sigil crackled with elemental energy and a pressure built behind my eyes.

"Did you copy Desta's lie detection spell?!" I coughed, my coffee sloshing in the mug. "Ri!"

"I did, and I made it better." She replied smugly. "If you submit, you are both encouraged to speak the truth and have the capability to read others' lies. So what do you say, Oracle? Still up for a game?"

Her ability to read spells like that is really impressive. I thought, eying the sorceress closely with a smile. I don't remember ever writing anyone into this world that could do what she does. Her capabilities are wholly unique and straight-up story-breaking! I wonder if she was always able to do that, or if this is something new? I guess I can play and ask.

"Fine," I said, and with a nonchalant wave of my hand, allowed the spell to take me. "Who starts?"

"I’ll go first. Let’s make it something easy, ‘kay? What hobbies did Tahvin have?”

OH FUG! Literally the hardest and only question I cannot answer right now. All I did was write. I could just say I wrote a story. That could work, yeah. Wait, no. Then there will be questions about the story and what it was. Should I tell them I wrote this world into existence?

Panic began to set in. I already didn’t like this game, and we had only just started.

No, that’s a bad idea to do over breakfast. That’s more of a dinner thing, I think. A dinner a long time away from now. Oh no, I’m taking too long. Ummm—bottoms up!

I took a swig of the coffee.

“Bleck—" I coughed as the alcohol assaulted my taste buds.

“What the hell?! That was the easiest question I could ask!”

“I panicked,” I replied honestly. “What—what are your hobbies?”

“That’s so not fair!” Rionriv yelled, slamming her hand to the table before drunkenly pointing towards me. “That’s just copying my question.”

“It’s fair game.”

Rionriv grumbled momentarily at my response before easing up and clearing her throat. “Well, I like to play the lute.”

"She's holding back!" Aesandoral excitedly injected. “She also likes to preserve flowers.”

“Aes!”

“Aww, flowers, that’s cute,” I replied with a coy smile. “And I’d love to hear your music sometime.”

“Hmph,” She huffed and looked away. "Sure, when you're on your deathbed, maybe. My turn. What do you have against school?"

"I told you, there are better ways to learn than being nose deep in a book."

"He's withholding something." Sharzin now jumped into the conversation.

GAH! Sharzin, you little traitor!

"I spent a lot of time in my last life in school, and it never helped me. This life around, I'd rather experience things than be trapped in a library, okay?"

Rionriv became silent as she glanced away from me. It was hard to tell whether she felt content or upset by my answer, but at the very least, it had been truthful. This meant that it was yet again my turn.

"How did you learn to create spells off of sight?"

"School," She replied quickly, her gaze locking back on mine as her feline ears twitched. "See, it's good for something."

Her words hung in the back of my mind as I noticed the faintest hint of hesitation in the response. My senses were suddenly enhanced, and I became acutely aware that she was holding back in her answer.

"And?" I questioned back. "What else? I get the sense there's more."

"Fineee," Rionriv groaned. "That incantationless casting book you lent me. It frees up the verbal component, which allows me to skip some steps. So I guess you helped too—anyways! Tell me about this haven you want to build.”

“Is that a question?”

“Ugh.” She rolled her eyes. “Iz, why do you want to build a haven that rivals—uhg, umm—whatcha’ma’callit, Westerrapin?”

“Well, Westerriton was a city built on, around, and within a mountain and was home to over a million people. It was the pinnacle of Arcane-Infused Technology and had all the comforts of World Eighty-Two. For people to survive the things to come, they're going to need an advanced homestead like that.”

“What’s World Eighty-Two?”

My heart raced as I suddenly realized that I had let something slip to her. Explaining World Eighty-Two would add too many possible layers of questions that could make my life harder than it needed to be. Immediately, I began to find a way to deflect.

“I, umm, that doesn’t count. It’s my question.”

I need to ask something that’ll catch her off guard and pivot from these topics. Oh man, I have a bad feeling about this. But, when in doubt, go nuclear.

“Hey, Ri, are you a virgin?”

Rionriv shrieked, recoiling from me in an instant as her arm swung wide. She struck my cheek and ear with a thunderous slap. The deafening sound was immediately joined by lightning, and a concussive blast so powerful that I was flung from my seat, before clearing the table meant for twenty and colliding with the distant wall. 

After the crack of my head against the wall, it was hard to say what happened next because the game had ended, and my world went dark.

—ooo—

It was some time after midnight, and I stood outside on a weathered porch bathed in the dim glow of a distant streetlight. Behind me, the music of the house party I attended rattled the windows, only briefly interrupted by the cheers and hollers of my peers. At this point in my life, I was a university student, and partying on a Thursday night had become second nature.

The spark of a match lit my face in the darkness before disappearing into the pipe I drew from. Inhaling, I pulled the rich tobacco flavour past my lips before exhaling it with a dramatic sigh. While the evening was not bad by any means, my night was not going as planned. It had been over a year since my parents had forced Bryssa and me to break up, and since then, I'd had no luck in the relationship department. Sure, there had been plenty of playful flirting, but I had yet to seal the deal, and with the evening getting late, it was looking more and more like I'd be going home alone yet again.

Just then, the door opened and closed behind me as another body joined my side. They were saying something soft and melodic, but I wasn’t listening. I was currently being too melodramatic to care. That was when I felt a hand grab my head, and the cool fall air hit my wavy hair. Turning, a smile revealed itself from beneath the figure's mess of black hair and my houndstooth fedora.

“You can’t just take that,” I smirked, stepping close to the young woman before plucking the hat from her head. “That's theft, after all.”

My lips curled into a devious smile at the sight of Tabitha's familiar face. She looked up at me with a playful glance from her amber eyes, as an adorable pout hung on her lips. The way she stood, pressing her chest forward, threatened to burst the strained buttons holding back her breasts. Taking in her dancer's form, I fought the urge to utter pleasurable groans as I locked my eyes on the short red skirt and heels. Holding my pipe away from her while plopping the hat back on my head, I locked eyes with the young woman I had dedicated most of the night to flirting with.

"What are you doing out here?" I asked softly, watching as the goosebumps began to cover her arms. "I thought you were cozying up to Josh?"

"You disappeared," She pouted. "And you promised me a game of flipcup."

"Aww, I'm sorry," I replied, reaching out and softly brushing a strand of black hair behind her ear before continuing with a whisper. "I'll still play with you, my little thief."

I remembered this moment well. It was from a brief window of my young adult life where I had what some called an ‘awkwardly charismatic confidence.’ It was at that moment that I discovered a social courage that I would henceforth wear like a badge of honour. And this youthful arrogance would help me begin turning socially awkward moments into wins for myself.

Having been so sure of myself back then, not an ounce of hesitation laced my words, just lustful eagerness. And, unlike other memories, this was a good one. One where I dared to act on my desires and would be rewarded for it.

"I'm a thief?" Tabitha whispered, biting at the bottom of her lip as she stepped closer to me. "Uh-ooh. I'm sorry, officer. What are you going to do with me?"

“What am I going to do with you?” I cooed as I gently wrapped a hand around her waist, grabbing at her lower back.

She stared up at me, wearing an eager gaze that longed for my attention. That craved me for something that I had also desired. It was the first time that someone other than Bryssa had looked into my eyes with a hunger like mine—an insatiable craving for another person's body.

“Am I going to have to punish you, Tabby?”

Then, the door opened as another partygoer emerged. The crack of light was just enough to frame our faces. Our intensely passionate stares—young, vain, and lustful. Tabitha’s eyes locked with mine as she parted her lips. Was it to speak, or was it something else—I couldn’t remember—because another young woman began to talk. My heart raced, and terror filled me.

—ooo—

With a sudden gasp for air, my eyes opened to a beam of light from the setting sun, assaulting my rest. What had started as the first comforting memory I'd had since they began had rapidly devolved due to the unfamiliar voice at the end. Grabbing at my racing heart, I attempted my usual calming breaths, listening to the thudding of my heart in my ears as thin whisps of air escaped my lips.

What the fug was that about? I asked myself as my other hand reached up to rub at my eyes. What? Did my mom show up at a house party? And, also, what was I thinking back then? A fedora AND a pipe? Did I have a neckbeard, too? Gah—cat books and now this? I feel like these memories are getting cringier.

Pushing aside the faux pas that was my youth, I sat myself up and instinctively touched the side of my face as reality began to return to me with the realization that my cheek was numb. Listening to the tinnitus that rang in my ear, I slowly remembered what happened.

Speaking of cringe…probably not my suavest move. I thought as I proceeded to feel the back of my sore head where a bump had begun to form.

“No blood, so that’s a good sign,” I muttered to myself. “But I should definitely apologize for that question.”

After channelling a quick heal into me to stop the ringing, I jumped from the bed and exited the lavish bedroom I had been laid out in to begin my search. Like a cat in a large house, I went from room to room, knocking politely and crying out for the attention of my companions. It was only after exploring the entire wing that I concluded that the triop had ditched me at the hotel to explore the town. Which meant one thing—

“Nice. Me time.” I talked to myself again as I crossed one of the second-story lounges to the balcony.

Stepping out, I stared over the empty courtyard and admired as the sun began to set beyond the garrison walls. The sound of waves crashing against the distant shores met my ears, bringing a smile to my still-tingling face.

Beginning to hum to myself, I tried to find the right note.

I’m going to do it. I thought and continued with my preparation. I'll show them I can sing.

The thought of the trip to Fearnemyst still hung in my thoughts. Not so much about the lycanthropy, which I had a plan to remediate, but the fact that my singing was so bad that no one appreciated it.  Sharzin, in particular, seemed the most disappointed, which meant it had become a goal to impress her with my singing. All I needed to do was find the right song.

The song I chose this time started well. In fact, I was giving it my all once again. I chose that one song by those four brunette guys. Or maybe were they blonde? Regardless of whether I could remember the group name, I knew the song, and that was what mattered. It was in an early meme after all. Perfect for a millennial like me to recreate in a new world.

“And so, I wake in the morning,” I sang loudly, stepping forward, throwing my whole body into every word as I continued. Then, taking a deep breath, I screamed from the top of my lungs. “What’s going on?! I say, hey-yeah yeah-eh-eh!”

I drove the song on with the chorus for a few seconds longer. And then it happened. Somewhere in the courtyard, a door flung open, and someone yelled out at the top of their lungs.

“Someone shut that cat up!" Their voice echoed out, reverberating through the courtyard. "We’re trying to eat in peace!”

“Yeah!” Another bystander called out. “Banshees make less racket!”

“Stick to your day job!” A third chimed in.

Swallowing the remaining verses, I quickly disappeared back inside as my ego shattered into a million pieces.

I—I’m not that bad, am I? I thought, looking down at my feet as the feeling of awkwardness settled in my chest once again. Come on...I—I'm not the worst singer in the world, am I?

That was when I looked up, catching sight of the three disgruntled women of the triop, each providing me a unique flavour of deadly stares. Their bedhead made me realize they had probably also been sleeping off the booze in their rooms, which would explain why they hadn’t responded when I knocked.

“I told you,” Sharzin grumbled angrily. “To never sing again.”

I focused on her as she stepped forward with a raised fist, causing my heart to stop as fear gripped me.

“I’m—” I responded as she began to charge me. “Sorry!”