Getting to know you

Chapter 35

It took a week to go back through and alter the town after the preliminary layout was done. My discussion with Brun had inspired me to be more flexible about decorations and designs. Going back and touching things up I found even the humans, of whom I technically had a better understanding, had been holding back some critiques and requests. Since I had done some sketches, they hadn’t felt like they should alter my ‘vision’ too much. My vision being myopic guesswork based on fiction from my old world wasn’t a fact they were privy to.

Now I was holed up in my chamber of machinations messing around to create not only paint colors but color swatches to distribute. A process complicated by the toxic ingredients I was doing my best to avoid and lookup alternatives to. I was doing all this from my newly installed throne I’d carved out of obsidian. The design shape was simple, with a bit of fluting and a high back. For decoration, I’d covered it in custom knotwork and obsidian skulls. It looked awesome, and thanks to an illusion laid over it, I could actually feel it. I’d done the same with the desk I’d placed in front of it but kept the design simpler.

On my left, Chris was laying down on a big plush black leather couch. While I’d been working on paint mixing, he was looking at the settings for his illusion of life. After what happened with Henry, I’d spent some time trying to come up with a solution for how to let the skeletons access the interface directly. In the end, I’d managed to manifest a stylus of sorts.

Once I had it, I’d called Chris to join me almost immediately. I’d been feeling uncomfortable with how I’d left things with him from the start. Even so, I felt hesitant as I handed over the stylus and left a share mode interface for him to use. Like giving a three-year-old a smartphone I’d expected him to wreak havoc once my back was turned. Not out of malice, but the inevitable moment when he got curious and started wondering what more he could do. I was relieved when it turned out he couldn’t change the profile or section he was on. The worst he could do was close it, which would cause the stylus to disappear.

It had been six hours since he started, and he didn’t show any sign of finishing his task as he calmly sipped chaos beverage and turned options on and off. I didn’t bother him and only glanced over occasionally. He hadn’t fully believed me when I’d told him his current illusion was just the healthy version of himself. The way he’d seemed to shrug it off hadn’t been comforting. I didn’t want him to eventually experience dysphoria or disassociate from his illusory image if he wasn’t already.

Exhausting my readily available paint supplies, I dropped off copies of the current swatches to most of the skeletons in the valley. Even if they hadn’t wanted structural or location changes, most wanted to add personalizations to their shops and homes. Aside from adding onto the dwarven quarter, as I was calling the valley wall section, the halflings had some of the largest structural modification requests.

Their warren in the dungeon had a low entrance, so I’d originally designed their shops with their heights in mind, but able to accommodate taller races. They’d accepted it as a compromise until I came back and asked them for what they would prefer to do. It turned out they liked to have their homes in earthen berms close to waterways but above flooding levels.

Additionally, they liked wide but shallow open-faced shops. Taller folks walking on the lower path could still see in and make purchases, but the building wasn’t dauntingly tall for the halflings themselves. It also had the bonus of putting them on eye level with their customers.

Predictably, I liked it, though I did make an argument for placing the tall folk’s walkway on the side opposite the residences. I found the idea of walking out your door in the morning and having to deal with veritable giants obliviously meandering about unpleasant. We were still discussing the matter, so I’d done two sets of example homes next to each other.

The trouble was they both seemed awkward since they were placed in mounds I’d constructed. The river was on the same level as the rest of the valley and I decided to change that. As much to deal with potential seasonal flooding as to make a more aesthetic halfling community.

Multi selecting tiles I included the river and twenty feet on either side to act as a flood plain. I depressed the tile group by eight feet, which created a new set of cliffs. Going along the new cliff faces, I added a fairly gentle slope adorned with thick grass. I felt it looked nice and wouldn’t trap anyone, even if they were one of the smaller races.

Going by the dimensions I’d used in constructing the halfling homes, they preferred five-foot ceilings. On the slope at the five-foot mark, I pushed back to create a four-foot-wide walkway. This would be the level of the home entries. I raised the earth above this section by three feet. Using halfling wisdom, I laid out an internal structure with a combination of stone, wood, and strong, deep-rooting plants to carry the load of the foot-thick earth roof before placing the shops.

When nothing collapsed, I gave myself a pat on the back and placed the model homes into the new river terrace community area. I liked the way it looked already, but I still needed to get the halfling skeletons to come and take a look so modifications could be made.

“Hey Chris, I’m going to check some stuff out in the halfling quarter. You good, or do you want to come with?” I asked as I got up from my desk. I could do the work from anywhere but being up close and seeing it was always better.

“Huh?” Chris said, clearly startled. He sat up, spilling a bit of chaos beverage in the process. I didn’t mind it. Couch v2 was stain-, tear-, and fire-resistant, unlike the dearly departed v1. I’d gotten a little bit ahead of myself with that one and hadn’t stopped to make sure ‘fire bull hide’ was elementally resistant after being tanned.

Belatedly I realized he should have effectively been spilling his drink on the couch the whole time, given his lack of soft tissue. Glancing at the couch though, I didn’t see a pool of anything. It seemed like chaos beverage was something anyone could enjoy.

“I’m going to the halfling quarter, want to come?” I repeated more succinctly.

“Yeah, I want to show off my new look,” He replied and touched an option on his display. His illusion activated a split second later and I found myself looking at the fight club version of a Christmas elf. One ear was nicked and possibly bitten, a scar ran vertically from just beside his chin up through his lips, another ran horizontally just under his eyes through his nose, and what I felt was a scar from a noose encircled his neck.

“Didn’t take the first time,” Chris said cheerfully when he noticed me looking at the noose scar. Since he hadn’t been wearing clothes, only the default rags were covering not much of him up. Similar to his face he had several scars and a couple of burns on his body along with a tattoo of a snake coiling around his biceps.

“Is that the world eater?” I asked, distracted from the scar. The figure was common in most religious doctrines I’d browsed and held a place less like the devil and more cthulhuian in nature. The inevitable end of the world could only be delayed.

“Yeah… Do I have to remove it?” Chris asked with a smirk that didn’t mask something hard in his eyes. He’d always given me a bored scamp with a heart of gold vibe, but that was under the highly controlled conditions of the dungeon. What sort of person he’d be if he had free reign and wasn’t surrounded by functionally immortal monsters wasn’t something I knew.

“No, though I’d like to know what it means to you,” I answered.

“Not how I got it?” He countered with a smile. There was a disconnect between his easy-going tone and how he looked at me. I didn’t doubt he was amused, his emotions felt sincerely expressed. The thing getting under my skin was a predatory glitter in his eyes.

“Some guy stabbed you with inky needles repeatedly,” I replied, and he chuckled.

“You’re not wrong,” he said then sighed.

“I was part of a cult of the serpent… in a mercenary sort of arrangement. I did what they asked, they gave me money and a place to sleep. I thought it was a good deal, but they apparently grew tired of my lack of faith in a lack of faith and gave me this,” Chris said, pointing at the noose mark.

“So, Nihilism-” I started but stopped. It was probably one of those things where it wouldn’t have a meaning to Chris.

“That’s the name of a philosophy from my old world. It meant rejecting faith, morals, and pretty much anything that claims life or how it’s lived has an inherent value. Basically, everything’s made up and nothing has meaning,” I said, not feeling as uncomfortable as someone from this world probably would.

“Sounds close enough, just tag on ‘so do what we say’ and I think you’ve got it,” Chris said before snickering.

“They sound charming. Do you want to go as is, or get some clothes?” I asked. Chris’s brows furrowed for a moment, then he looked down at his loincloth of rags illusory outfit.

“Yeah, clothes. I’ll meet you topside,” He said cheerfully before heading out. I headed up and felt proud I’d managed to be fairly chill about his tattoo and background. He’d picked the assassin class change, once I added a few more human rogues and made the option available. I’d known from that point forward he might have been or aspired to be one in life.

Finding out about the nihilistic doom cult was off-putting, but I remembered what he looked like without editing. He’d lived life hard enough to make buddying up with that cult, despite not believing, seem like a good idea. Judging him for the choices he’d made while alive wouldn’t be fair. I felt a new surge of resolve as I decided no matter what had happened before, I’d only judge him by how he was now.

I sent out a mass text to the halfling community interested in living in town to come check out what I’d done. Chris arrived just ahead of them, which gave me a chance to take in his new look.

“You look nice,” I said. I wasn’t lying, but I spoke with my mouth, since I could control my tone. It didn’t auto broadcast emotion, unlike telepathy. He’d gone from fight club Christmas elf to dark fantasy Peter Pan in head to toe black leather. If he were alive, he’d probably be sweating madly, but as a skeleton wrapped in an illusion, he was cool as ice.

“Thanks,” He said with a proud lift of his chin. He was wearing a vest of what looked like black leather scale armor over a black shirt. His pants were leather with quilted and pipped sections of reinforcement rounded out with black metal grommets. They looked fancy as hell to me, but not in a gothic for show way. Someone had clearly spent time figuring out how to add protection to vital spots while keeping the weight down. Plain by comparison boots and a deep hooded cloak rounded out the outfit.

He looked good, but it was a video game level obvious design. I wanted to chuckle but refrained. This world might not have fashion stereotypes when it came to certain classes. Even so, I didn’t think anyone would look at him and not feel like he was up to no good. Then again, he might look perfectly normal to someone accustomed to seeing people wear light armor all day.

“Mistress!” Icarus called, leading the pack of halflings coming up the tunnel. I waved and after his group converged on Chris and me, we headed out. Despite being used to my level of control over the interior of the dungeon, they all seemed surprised by what I’d done to the river.

“This… it's lovely,” Someone said as the group started murmuring among themselves. About a quarter of them had their illusions of life so they spoke aloud instead of the usual silent telepathy. Strolling along the path, they started checking out the interiors of the test houses and climbing up to the shops. The slope to get to the top wasn’t bad, but I hastily added some stone staircases. I also made a mental note to add a pully lift somewhere so they could get heavy things up to the shops easily.

Chris, being on the shorter side, joined in on the inspection. He seemed amused by the small scale of everything and the halflings didn’t seem to mind him. Pretty soon they finished and started making requests. Some of them were for simple aesthetic items, like flower boxes or paint colors. Others were for changes to the height of the embankment or number of rooms in a home.

With the awkwardness of our prior lack of communication out of the way, everything flowed smoothly. The only problem I could see was Icarus wasn’t part of any of the groups. Halflings were very family and clan oriented, from what I’d witnessed. Not already part of a group, it was strange he wasn’t trying to join one.

“Hey Icarus,” I started awkwardly when I decided to approach him. There didn’t seem to be a good way to start the conversation, but it needed to happen.

“Mistress,” he replied pleasantly with a nod. He didn’t have an illusion of life yet so I couldn’t read his expression as he watched his fellows pick homes and make plans.

“Did you find a spot you liked? I can have a new house put in today,” I offered. I didn’t want to back him into a corner, but he’d asked for a shop and commuting from the dungeon would be problematic. It would be fine if he changed his mind, but I needed to know.

“I did but… I’d like to live with Dawn,” he said after a moment of hesitation. His thought felt melancholy to me.

“Did you talk to her about it yet?” I asked gently. I didn’t want to rub salt in a wound if he’d been rejected. His orbs brightened as he looked up at me in what I felt was surprise.

“You’d let us?” He asked hurriedly.

“Yes? It’s not really any of my business. You can make your own choices about things like that,” I said. The situation was giving me flashbacks to when I’d told Stalin he and Blackmore could have puppies if they wanted, once there was space.

“Thank you! May I go see her?” Icarus asked, grabbing my hands in his excitement. I nodded and he went sprinting off in the direction of the adventurer’s guild.

“He’s fast when he wants to be,” Chris observed from the embankment above me. I jumped a little but regained my composure quickly.

“Is it considered taboo for different races to get together?” I asked.

“Yeah, kind of? It depends on which ones and where. I didn’t really care much about halflings, I’m into elves,” Chris said then shrugged. I refrained from making a Christmas elf joke, feeling it would be mean spirited.

“Guess I should clarify my stance on the subject,” I said but didn’t look forward to that mass text. It felt awkward to have authority over things like that. Even so, I put it on my list of things to finish before the day was out. Awkward or not, I didn’t want anyone to feel unnecessarily inhibited.

“I should probably add something about prior group or religious affiliation while I’m at it,” I added, glancing at Chris’s tattooed arm.

“What do you mean?” He asked, looking suspicious.

“Well, like if you still embrace nihilism or something like it. That’s okay, and the others shouldn’t treat you badly because of it,” I said. I hadn’t really done anything like set up HR policies, but it seemed like I should before any issues came up.

“Why?” Chris asked, eyes wide in surprise.

“Because it would be the same as discriminating against Dawn for worshiping her god. It's fine to have differences of belief if everyone is respectful about it. I don’t plan on taking sides about stuff like this unless someone wants to do something like human sacrifices,” I said. It was hard to explain it well on the spot, but I felt like I’d done alright. Thank you, horrible HR training videos ubiquitous in my world.

“That’s… Why are you okay with it?” Chris asked me, looking angry.

“With what?” I asked. I wasn’t sure what he was objecting to.

“Nihilism, me, everything,” He said sharply, seeming to lose himself in the middle.

“Do I even belong here?” He demanded loud enough the nearby halflings looked over in confusion. Realizing he’d shouted Chris pulled his hood up, then turned tail and ran.

“Fuck,” I said flatly as what had happened sunk in. He’d spent six hours on his appearance, there was no way any detail of it wasn’t important to him. Yet I’d just blithely accepted it with a minimum of questions. I’d even taken in his backstory without much comment. I was stunned for a moment and felt a dizzying rush of hateful nostalgia. It wasn’t so long ago I’d been dealing with social anxiety myself.

“Christopher. Truman. Phalanges,” I shouted louder than humanly possible. Everyone in earshot froze and I knew it would have made own skin crawl if I had any. Middle names had definitely been the right call. Chris looked back at me, not used to my version of ‘the mom voice’. For the first time, his mask dropped, and I found myself looking at someone unfamiliar. A confused teenage boy with hurt in his eyes.

I shifted myself over to him in the next instant and gave him a hug. He tried to wiggle out of it at first then settled down and put his arms around me too. Even with an illusion of life, he couldn’t cry, and I wasn’t sure he would have if he could. Even so, I waited until he pushed me away a second time before letting go.

“Chris, I’m sorry I don’t understand what’s wrong,” I said as he looked at me sullenly. Teens were just establishing their identities, but he had to deal with the extra issue of being a skeleton. Thinking about it I realized he might never mature past that stage since he didn’t grow. His soul eternally trapped in the last state it had been in.

“You feel bad about weird things,” Chris asserted awkwardly.

“I feel bad because I hurt your feelings… I’m not good with people but I consider you my friend,” I said honestly. I felt like I understood what the problem was, but I wasn’t dumb enough to say it without evidence. Even if I was certain, it was better for Chris to say it himself.

“Bullshit,” He said sharply.

“I don’t let people I don’t like hang out in my room,” I shot back on reflex. Being combative and pointing out things he’d already come up with rationalizations for wasn’t going to work. Not that it stopped my mouth. Logic-controlling speech was far too convenient a feature for the system to include it.

“You like Henry and Dawn and Burn and Icarus….” Chris’s list trailed off as he probably realized he was raving. That he’d started with Henry made me flinch, but I kept myself from saying anything from a few moments. I wanted to make him feel better, but his painfully obvious insecurity wouldn’t benefit from platitudes.

I could have pointed out I was essentially a god within my domain with powers over every aspect of it. From the placement of the earth, the monsters that roamed, and every other thing from the number of blades of grass to the clarity of the water. Nothing in the dungeon could control me. Somehow starting off a talk with a power trip didn’t seem like the best way to win anyone over.

“Chris, I like everyone here,” I started. I didn’t actually like Aaron, but he’d been a pain in my ass and rude to the other skeletons. I wasn’t going to tell Chris that however, there was no way he’d pass up getting to rag on the stuck-up sorcerer.

“But outside of work matters, you’re the one I talk to the most,” I continued.

“No,” Chris said flatly but only looked skeptical. It was an improvement over full denial.

“Seriously. I don’t think I’d spoken to Henry or Dawn combined half as much as I’ve chatted with you,” I said honestly.

“Really?” he asked, still clearly not willing to trust me.

“Yeah really. How many texts did it take to get you to stop bugging me about changing your last name?” I asked him with a smirk he probably couldn’t see. The four-day hundred and ten messages back and forth it had taken to convince him to stop trying to get me to change his last name to Baculum (dick bone) was a standing record for interaction with any single entity on my part.

A lot of it had been him just writing please and me replying no, but it was a record nonetheless. That didn’t include his habit of sending me pictures of random things he found in macro, or candid shots of others doing odd stuff. The low point, or highlight depending on your taste, was a stacked shot of Stalin where it looked like he was peeing fire because of a lava fountain.

“Right,” Chris said, looking pleased at first before it melted into melancholy. Resurrection magic ticked up a couple of places on my list of stuff to figure out. Dying young was only topped in terms of awful by being trapped in the least stable emotional growth phase for the rest of his unlife. As much as I liked him the way he was, the dude deserved a chance to grow up and out of the weirdest part of his life.

“Look… I feel like it doesn’t matter who you were. I mean, I’d like to know, but you’re in a very different place now. So, who you are now is the bit I care about.” I offered, despite tripping up as I went along. I really wished I could have had more time to think about it.

“Okay,” Chris said, looking like he was at his limit for real talk time. I had to remind myself you didn’t fix other people, even with semi-phenomenal nearly cosmic dungeon powers. More to the point, giving support and trying to help was a marathon, not a sprint. It was better to retreat until he was ready to talk about it again and hope I hadn’t fucked things up for the moment.

“Want to head back to my chamber, or would you like some alone time?” I asked, giving him a more conservative side hug. He blushed hard, and I had to wonder if I’d missed out on a social convention about them somewhere.

“I want to hang out,” He said, and I let go. We headed back into the dungeon together and I was feeling a bit better. We hadn’t resolved anything, but I felt like we’d gotten a bit closer as friends.

“42?” Chris asked, looking abashed.

“What’s up?” I asked, a little excited he might say something nice.

“Well, it’s just… About the shop. I made up my mind, but I didn’t tell you because I didn’t think you’d let me have it,” Chris said.

“No promises, but you can always ask,” I said, in too good a mood to notice the glitter I didn’t like was back in his eyes. I mistook it for a good mood like my own.

“What did you want to do?” I asked to encourage him.

“I want to run a whore house,” Chris said with a grin that went from ear to ear.

Mother. Fucking. Chris.