Picayune scanned over the incomprehensible melange that had once been known as his bed. The mattress had found much more rigorous use as a makeshift workstation, it hadn’t found much traditional use of late… or at all. He grabbed his wand, spare, and offhand, taking the odd shaped wooden horns over to his alchemy set where his finished solution was ready. Before doing anything, he made sure that the arm belts of the overlarge offhand wand were properly strapped in place. Satisfied with their strength, he moved on back to his alchemy set. At the terminus of the long winding alchemy set, a small faucet was eking out the last couple drops of a pungent gelatinous fluid into a large beaker. He unscrewed the clay lids from the wide brim end of the three wands, taking the beaker and pouring the gelatinous substance within into the hollow wands before finally recapping the wands off with their clay cover and mounting them onto a stand that ran over a small flame.

While he waited for his refractory gel to harden in the wands, he went over to check his collection of spell covers. Splayed about his bed—amongst the rest of the cacophonous mess—were a series of color marked clay covers whose insides contained beautifully carved runes. Picayune carefully grabbed each cover and inspected the runes with a precise eye glass making sure that no dust or imperfections had managed to clutter the carved grooves of the runes. It was extremely important that the rune shape was immaculately preserved. Luckily for his schedule, he failed to notice any debilitating faults in his personal craftsmanship, there usually never was but it didn’t hurt to double check.

As Picayune reached over to inspect his last spell cover a spark of panic struck when he saw that he only had five of his six carefully crafted spell covers: flare repeater, propulsion up with glider coat, Switch, physical barrier, and synchronized self blind with flash bomb. Where was the magic barrier spell cover!? Picayune ignored the knock at his door as he scoured across his floor and under his bed to find that tiny little marker worth days of his efforts. Against an opponent like the Vampire, he may as well suicide on the spot without a magical barrier cover. Thankfully, it turned out it was under his pillow, and he could allow himself to relax.

Having confirmed the quality of all six of his spell covers he then looked over his emergency ring blade, and he also investigated his extra emergency pair of cracked mirrors, as well as he couldn’t forget to check his extra extra emergency renaissance pendant. He made sure that nothing was blemished or broken upon his exceptionally expensive and hard formed trinkets, well except for the cracked mirrors in which case he had to make sure they were just broken and blemished enough. Those cracked mirrors were always annoying to check. Having to count and make sure that both mirrors had the correct total crack length distance was a ridiculously irritating task, almost as annoying as cracking two mirrors in just the way so that they have the same total crack length distance.

There was another knock at the door and Picayune thought that he should probably check to see that the wand gels were properly hardening over the fire. Picayune managed to make it half-way across his room when he heard another knock at his door; he let an aggravated huff flare from his nostrils. He had lost count of how many times he had to remind the Tournament staff that he didn’t want to be disturbed, he was getting suspicious that many bothered him just because they were excited to finally meet a contestant. He turned on his heels marching towards the door ready to give this person a piece of his mind.

He started shouting over before he even finished opening the door. “WHAT DO YOU WAaaaaaaa…” Picayune’s voice swiftly dragged to a regretful whimper as he found himself face to face with a perfectly modeled Belabor. Her makeup expertly applied by clearly only the best of her servants. Her evergreen dress sparkled with an alluring vibrance, its long flowing weave ending just over the knees and hemmed by an indescribably detailed floral pattern. Her hair had been braided into a tight bun with the slight glimmer of encrusted jewelry shining from within the voluminous hair. Large diamond earrings in the shape of grand daisies dressed the side of her head, completing the spring aesthetic of her garb.

Belabor smiled with quiet irritation. “You forgot, didn’t you?”

Picayune closed his mouth afraid that he might catch some flies. He struggled upon the words he felt before finally stumbling out, “…You look amazing.”

Belabor’s smile turned genuine, seeing more the comedy than the exasperation in her situation. She gave her boyfriend an appraising eye, scanning him head to toe before replying, “So do you. You forgot, didn’t you?”

Picayune looked down to see that he was still only in his undergarments, ripped from having been caught on some splintered piece of wood at some point. Picayune was still sweaty from tireless exertion, and his eyes, devoid of sleep, were cast in dark shadows of ill time managed agony. Pushing his damp disheveled hair aside, he looked back to Belabor with an apologetic smile, “Did I?”

She whiffed at the air and nearly gagged at the smell. Whether the stench was from the wand gel or his own personal aroma he wasn’t even sure. Her crinkling nose soon turned to snorting as she burst into laughter at the tragedy before her. She wrapped her arms around Picayune’s, uncaring of the grime he was rubbing onto her, “Alright let’s get you washed up tough guy.”

Picayune grimaced uncomfortably, his sentence apprehensive from worry, “I’m in trouble, aren’t I?”

Belabor looked up to her taller boyfriend, love in her eyes and a grin stretching from ear to ear. She spoke with a boundless cheerfulness, “Yup.” She hugged him tighter as she popped the p.

“How badly did I screw up?”

Belabor ran her manicured hand through Picayune’s knotted hair as she guided him to the baths. She chirped over to Picayune “You better hope the Vampire kills you, because otherwise I will.”

“Not cool Bela!” Belabor broke into laughter trotting away as Picayune tried to catch the mischievous girl. The light game of tag carried the two all the way over to their eventual destination. Arriving at the baths first, Belabor dramatically launched the double doors ajar revealing the room’s contents. Slightly disappointed, Picayune pouted. “Where are all the servants?”

Belabor’s chipper mood stilled momentarily before quickly rebounding with full force. “Well, that’s not a problem. I can just draw the bath for you.” Picayune drew up a single brow in doubt. Belabor ignored her boyfriend’s lack of faith and wandered over to a nearby series of… things, that looked vaguely water drawing related. Look, if some uneducated peasant servants could manage the water system, then how complicated could it be?

While Belabor tried to decipher the convoluted tap system, Picayune was trying to search for any type of soap or cleansing products with very little success. Belabor followed the twisting paths of piping and levers, trying and failing to build a functional blueprint within her mind. A few minutes if embarrassingly fruitless effort and she was starting to get seriously aggrieved with this whole venture. Sure, she was no Picayune, but she was still a qualified wizard of Ersatz university, something pedestrian like this should be trivial to her. “Okay Picay, I tried being cute, but seriously this thing is less user friendly than an ancient ruin.”

Picayune temporarily gave up on his soap search and walked over to the tangle of knobs and pulleys that Belabor found herself trapped within. “Okay, so what’s going on over here?”

Belabor pointed to a small pulley attached to a large hollow log inserted within the wall. She began commenting as she went through the motions. “So I pull this lever and then this faucet seems to fall down-” As she tugged on the pulley, a large log tilted downwards inclining its nozzle. “But no water pours out and no matter what else I play with nothing changes.”

Picayune scanned through the odd system trying to source the problem. “Have you tried using the pulley after locking that lever in the other direction?”

Belabor looked over to where Picayune pointed. “Hmm, no I haven’t. Let’s try it.” She leaned over, switching the lever into the other position and tried the pulley again.

No water came out but a low rumbling moan started slowly rising in pitch. Picayune cringed at the sound, “That can’t be good.” As if in reply to his statement a loud explosion erupted from out in the hall with a panicked scream immediately following after.

The two slowly turned to face each other, “Oops.” Then a panel in the wall next to them suddenly burst, unleashing a jet of hyper pressured water that careened into the two knocking them off their feet.

The two were prone and drenched, Belabor’s immaculate hair now a raging rat’s nest, its jewelry blown out across the room. Unable to contain themselves, the two bursts into mad giggles drawing the attention of a very wet and equally irritated servant. “What in the divine realm are you two doing!” The two turned to the poor servant woman seeming more reminiscent of a cat caught in the rain than anything else and the two troublesome nobles couldn’t help but burst into another set of giggles. It didn’t take long from then for the two to be swarmed by a gaggle of aggravated servants that tore the two apart from each other attempting to somehow clean them up. More than one of Belabor’s servants nearly wept at the sight of her ruined dress and makeup, something that certainly had cost more than their entire careers and would have taken some other servants upon hours of arduous work to have prepared.

With time and isolation, Picayune had grown accustomed to the scent of the wand gel but the smell clung like no other. Without Belabor’s love to bear with it, the servants tending his bath had to take turns for breaks so that they could relieve their tormented nostrils.

Needing to meet their reservation on time, the servants had to begrudgingly let the couple go without fully finishing their cleanings.

The hastily dressed couple looked horrendously out of place in the prestigious restaurant. Belabor’s washed-out makeup and Picayune’s wrinkled clothes garnered scornful sneers as they were escorted to their seats. The loud giggling over what most were certain was a dirty joke didn’t help the room’s first impressions of the young couple either. Though as a customer—and Tournament contestant—the two were still given their modicum of respect and they managed to order their food with only one warning for disturbing public order.

It was only once the food had arrived that the satisfaction finally came to Belabor. She sat in this beautiful restaurant that she had looked so forward to for the past month, along with her precious Picayune, eating what was probably the best meal she had ever had in her life. She felt that she could almost see the light return to her boyfriend, the bags under his eyes lifting as he ate, and they spoke of some trivial nonsenses. They never spoke of anything important, no mokoi leaders, nor Tournament responsibilities. The deepest their conversation ever got to anything of significant value was when they started gossiping about their school friends, that topic was a never ending well of content. The food dried but the wine glasses never emptied, much to their pleasure and the displeasure of everyone around. The giggling only got louder and stories more animated. They could hear a few snide comments whispered around but they were sure that those people were just jealous to see a genuinely happy couple.

Somehow it felt like they hadn’t spoken in ages, and they caught up with one another for hours before having to leave the restaurant to accommodate other reservations. Their personal celebrations never ended as they bounced from market to market. They perused about all the foreign garbs and tried some strange foods, they challenged and failed at rigged games and bartered against overpriced jewelry. As they wandered through the festivities Picayune would oft be recognized and they would struggle to socially navigate away from the swiftly congregated crowd. With time, the market began to quiet as more stores closed for the night until eventually the two found themselves wandering out of town searching for a comfortable perch to gaze upon the arriving stars. Soon enough they stumbled across a nice little hill with which they could experience the bronzing dusk. The early encouragements of brighter stars pronouncing themselves through the shallow skies.

Once the day star had fully fallen, the two laid in the soft grass, Belabor’s head snuggly resting into Picayune’s shoulder as they pointed out as many constellations as they could spot. Sometimes they would even invent some of their own constellations and see if the other would notice, they always did, but it was fun regardless.

A cloud slowly crawled onto the night view pressing pause on their little game. “I can do this right?”

Belabor slowly dragged her head up to see Picayune looking down at her uncertainly. She smiled warmly, “Of course.” For a while they accepted the silence in married content. “Besides…” Belabor raised her hands to her face pointing her index fingers down by her mouth in a facsimile of large fangs. “Your blood iz not vorthy of zucking to kill you.” She imitated in a terrible accent

Picayune pushed her mocking face back laughing. “Oh, hush you.”

“No hush you!” Belabor quickly flipped her-self over and struck Picayune with a heavy two-handed shove knocking him flat on the ground. She was knelt over Picayune, her hands against his chest still pinning him down, her eyes locked with his. She slowly leant down so her lips could press with his. The touch was so gentle, the kiss barely present, she just felt the need to touch him, to be closer to him. She stayed in that position for a while feeling the bliss in simply being with him, simply touching, and that was enough. She understood that he had a lot on his mind through this whole Tournament thing and she wanted to be supportive, but she still missed him. After a few seconds, she came back to her senses and pressed her lips more firmly to his, giving him a proper kiss, “I love you.” She leant back down and gave him another kiss. “And you’ll totally win.” She kissed him once more. “And you ruined my dress.”

Picayune rolled his eyes. “I said I was sor-” He couldn’t finish his statement as she kissed him once more.

“I’ll forgive you.” She kissed him again. “And I just want to kiss you some more.” She leant down and pecked all over his face pressing her face against his over and over again coating him in a solid film of red gloss.

“That’s ticklish!” Picayune couldn’t help but shout back between his writhing giggles. As that only helped encourage her to peck faster, he retaliated by sending his hands to her hips convulsing her into a fit of laughter. Hitching her off of his body he turned the two over so that he rested above her.

“Stop! Stop!” She tried to shout in between the raucous chuckling.

“What’s the magic word?” he asked increasing his tickling in an attempt to subvert her capacity to speak.

“Please, please stop!” The second he heard those words he stopped tickling and pinned her face to the ground with a solid kiss on the lips.

“I love you too.” He kissed her again. “And I will win.” He kissed her once more “And I prefer you without the dress.” He smirked and kissed her once more.

She shot a judging finger up to him “Don’t you dare.”

“And I just want- “

“Don’t do it.” She warned.

Picayune waited frozen in position looking back at that pointed finger. “- to kiss you some more.” Picayune bombarded Belabor in a torrential assault of kisses sending her into another fit of laughter. Belabor found the only way to stop his assault was to intercept his lips with her own and lock the two in a deep passion.

“Urgh, Vhy vould he try to eat her blood?” The Vampire grimaced in disgust as his powerful mokoi eyes observed Picayune from within his Tournament appointed room.

“He is kissing her sir. Humans tend not to suck each other’s blood.” The Vampire’s personal mokoi attendant Sobriquet responded.

“Does that tazte good?”

“I do not think so sir.”

The Vampire shrugged his shoulders in acceptance of the strangeness that was humans, “Veird.”