“And this,” Abigail said with a wide, sweeping gesture, “Is my home.”

You stare. Her home — your home, you suppose — is a tiny little place. There’s a small room off to one side with a toilet and bathtub and sink, the floor all cracked and poorly repaired. The kitchen is the biggest space there is, with a table that doesn’t quite sit straight covered in heavy tomes and a stove off to one side that looks more like a pile of rust than anything else.

Deeper in, not even in its own room, is the sleeping area. A bedframe with a thin mattress sitting on it, quilted blankets all neatly folded atop it. There’s a dresser to one side, with clothes stacked on top in careful piles and a bookshelf tucked in another corner, books left all around it in haphazard mounds of knowledge-y goodness. There’s no room on the shelves themselves for even a single pamphlet.

“Right, your place isn’t big enough for one person, let alone three,” Daphne said. “I should head back home.”

“Hey,” Abigail protested. “Not all of us can live in mansions.”

“I don’t live in a mansion Abi, I live in a nice part of the city. You just can’t tell the difference because you’re such a backwater bumpkin.”

“Snooty rich jerk,” Abigail shot back.

You blink up at the two of them. They are clearly insulting each other, but the way they’re displaying their teeth and the tone of their voices suggest friendly conversation. The mortals are trying to confuse you. This is okay, you can banter right back.

“Both of you are insufficient and worthless,” you say.

“Ah,” Abigail says.

The two girls look at eachother, then back down at your very serious face. They have the temerity to start giggling at each other!

While you stew in resentment, Abigail and Daphne give each other hugs and quick goodbyes, then Daphne pauses before you and leans forwards a little. “Bye Dreamer. You take care of Abi for me, okay?”

“Hrmpf,” you say.

She smiled and brings a hand down on your head. As you see it coming, you contemplate taking a bite out of her. It would teach her an important lesson about looking down upon her betters and also you’re a bit hungry.

Before you can come to a decision, the hand lands on your head and... you feel your eyes going heavy, your knees going weak, even your tentacles loosening a little as your hair is ruffled.

She stands back up, ending the spell. “I’m off!” she says.

You stand there in a daze for a few long moments until Abigail shutting the door wakes you up. “Are you okay?” she asks.

“I am well,” you say. No mere headpat will keep you down! How dare she pat your head. You are the one who pats.

“Alright-y then. You look a bit tired. Did you want something to eat before heading off to bed?”

Why would you go to the bed? It’s just across the room, why would reaching it be any sort of event worthy of notice? Mortals are strange, but this one is offering food. Maybe she has more lye. “Yes.”

She hums a little as she bustles over to the stove and sets a pot onto it. Reaching into a cupboard, she pulls out the only two bowls within and places them on her table. “Going to need to make room,” she says as she looks at all of her books. “I don’t want to damage my school books.”

“School books,” you repeat. “For the Academy?”

“That’s right,” Abigail says, immediately perking up. She opens another cupboard that reveals plenty of tin cans and pulls a pair off the shelf. “That’s where we’ll be going, the both of us.”

“Why?”

She shows her teeth again in a huge grin. “Because the Academy is the best school in all of Fivepeaks. The best magical school in the whole region, really. And if I, we, go there, we can learn all sorts of things about magic. I’ve been studying a whole lot already just to prepare. I’m going to be a magical researcher, pushing the bounds of what humanity can do with circles and runes!”

Your summoner is very excited. Her talking gets faster and soon she’s gesturing with a ladle over a boiling pot of canned food.

“Daphne’s going too, but she’s not really as interested in the mechanics of magic as I am. Really, she says she’s there to find a beau, but we both know that she’s actually really passionate about material conversion magics. She’s got a real gift for it.”

Abigail keeps talking about the school, about how pretty it is, and about how all the professors are great until the food is ready. She grabs the bowls from the table and scoops some meaty sauce into them. There are little pieces of vegetables floating in it. It smells yummy.

She places the bowl before you, then a spoon next to it. As if you would need such an implement.

“Let’s eat,” she says as she sits next to you and picks up her own spoon.

You pick up the bowl from its edges and tip it into your mouth. It is yummy! Your summoner is the best cook, you decide as you guzzle down the stew. A moment later you place the bowl back down and belch out a bubble of air caught in your throat. It escapes with a bit of steam from the boiling stew.

Abigail is staring. “Okay,” she says finally before picking up her spoon and carefully blowing on it.

You watch her eat, tentacles poised to pick any falling food up. Abigail notices, because halfway through her bowl she sighs and asks you if you want the rest.

You do!

Tentacles wrap around her bowl and its contents join the first in your tummy.

“Right,” Abigail says. “I think it’s time for bed for you.”

“I am not tired,” You declare before your jaw almost dislocates with a yawn. “I am the night, and the night does not sleep when it doesn’t want to.”

“Uh-huh,” Abigail says. “Not even a little nap? My bed is pretty comfortable.” She gestures to the bed in the corner.

Well, you do like naps.

“Okay.”

Hopping off the chair, you move over to the bed while your tentacles reach out and wrap around Abigail’s thin form. “Dreamer!” she squeaks as you lift her off the ground and bring her to the bed.

Your other tentacles are moving the blankets around to form a proper cocoon. Once you have a nice fluffy plie of them moved aside, you place Abigail down and climb up next to her.

“H-hey, I have things to do,” she protests.

“No. It’s nap time.”

Just to make sure she doesn’t misbehave, you wrap her in even more tentacles, then your arms. It’s nice and warm and smells like stew and Abigail.

This is good.

“Sleep,” You tell Abigail.

She sighs again and wiggles a bit to get more comfortable. “Fine. Good night, Dreamer. It was nice meeting you.”

“Yes,” you decide. It has been nice so far.

It’ll be nicer tomorrow.