Basil isn’t talking to her right now.

Fresh stands downstairs behind the inside counter, running the store today with the priestess behind her at the window. Shamrock is doing his usual work and Jubilee is upstairs, inspecting and fixing up the bear. It probably won’t get a hug, but at the very least, Jubilee is going to patch it up a little, after checking to make sure that it is entirely ‘fuckery free’, as they had promised Basil, saying that if they find anything, they’ll destroy the bear themselves.

(Fresh) sold: 1 [Sun-dress]{Yellow}(High)

for

[{49} Obols] !

“Thank you, come again!” she calls out to the muscular, battle-scarred orc who is walking away, admiring the dainty, pastel-yellow dress that she had just purchased. Fresh throws the coins into the money-drawer, turning her head back to look at Basil, who is still frigidly looking out of the window, despite there not being anyone there to buy anything right now.

Fresh supposes that she understands. She did a very childish thing, crying so loudly about a teddy-bear. Sure, it was ‘alive’ in the same sense that any of her sheep were and sure, she had made it with clear, loving intent for Jubilee, but by her fit of emotionality this morning, she had once again chosen ‘the other’ over them in front of Basil and Fresh is starting to feel that the priestess is losing her ability to forgive her for doing so.

Perhaps it’s something that can be forgiven once, or maybe even twice. But she’s been doing it so often now, that she can’t help but feel that she has crossed a line that Basil isn’t willing to compromise on anymore. In truth, she hates herself for it too. Of course she would choose Basil over something like the bear in a life or death situation, it isn’t even a contest. But in her stubborn mind, she doesn’t think that the bear is a threat and that destroying it is the ‘bad choice’ in this situation.

But Basil clearly thinks the opposite and she feels that Fresh has, once again, in a life or death situation, chosen someone who isn’t her, who isn’t them. Fresh realizes that maybe she herself is just being selfish? Maybe she just isn’t able to see someone else’s world-view and insists on imposing her own onto them like always, to the point of crying and screaming if she doesn’t get what she wants? In a sense, Fresh can’t help but wonder that if they aren’t all still a big family, if she isn’t the spoiled-rotten brat of it?

She finds herself rubbing her arm nervously, not sure if there is a way to make this up at all. The irony isn’t lost on her, that something like her cursing of a paragon of Basil’s faith wasn’t enough to shatter the foundation of her trust, but that a simple teddy-bear would be the thing that set this into motion.

The morning had started so nicely as well.

“Are we still friends, Basil?” asks Fresh, breaking the silence.

Basil turns around to look at her, but then looks back away out of the window without saying a word.

A series of coins rattle in front of her as a customer comes to set down his assortment of items. “Do you have these in red?” he asks, pointing at the swimming-shorts in his hand.

Fresh blinks and returns to her work.

The day runs on calmly enough. The shop is busy like any other day and the customers come and go like they would on any other day. Eventually, it comes to an end and after they close up the store, Basil simply heads up to the roof and works on her area by herself for the rest of the evening and by the time they go to bed, she lays down entirely wordlessly, not even sparing a breath for a ‘good night’.

Jubilee had fixed up the bear, giving it a pass in regards to magical-safety. But rather than keeping it in their room, they give it to Fresh, saying that ‘it’s creepy as fuck’. Fresh lays there, holding the bear against herself, feeling it squirm as it tries to get away to go to Jubilee. Not even it wants to stay with her.

It feels pretty cold tonight, she notices. Must be the autumn air.

The next day comes and runs on just as silently and awkwardly. They don’t have breakfast together anymore, or dinner. Basil is entirely ignoring her and as for Jubilee and Shamrock, there seems to be an uncertainty and awkwardness in the air now, that Fresh just doesn’t know what to do with. It’s like a river that she doesn’t know how to cross, despite being able to see her friends on the other side of it from where she stands.

The next day comes. Then the next day and then the next day after that. Soon a week comes to pass, a week that Fresh kind of only exists in a half-aware state in, as she feels like she is walking on egg-shells no matter what she says, what room she enters, who she looks at. It’s like she’s always just waiting for someone to shout at her or slam a door or even hit her, but nobody ever does, obviously.

Rumors from the central city begin becoming more abundant. Talk of the mighty hero and of the horrible witch of the north, who had come in the darkness of midnight to try and murder him in his sleep. Apparently, she had taken the hero’s sister, the girl called Peridot, as well, bringing her to some dark cave in the deepest reaches of the south to be eaten, if not tortured and played with for aeons. She has been missing and entirely unseen since that night, so the worst has been assumed.

As for the curse that had befallen the hero, no rumors or myths ever seem to come their way, as if it never happened. Only ever stories of a failed murder attempt or of how she was beaten back and embarrassed.

One particularly embarrassing story is that she had apparently tried to seduce the hero, but was harshly rebuked because he was a pious, holy man, far above such things, especially coming from a craven old crone such as herself. According to that story, she had broken down at the rejection and flown away, crying as she vanished into the night. So, at least one tiny bit of it was true.

Nobody talks about any of this around the dinner table, because Fresh is the only one who sits there, sliding a piece of dry bread around before herself. She hadn’t bothered to use a plate, the bread is just laying on the table.

The next day comes.

Someone tries to attack Shamrock in the store, calling him a monster. Shamrock throws the man out over the counter, past Basil and Jubilee. The adventurer flies through the window and past the patio, sliding into the wet sand outside.

After that, nobody tries anything else.

The next day comes. There is talk of an approaching regiment of soldiers from the north who are going to be here any day now. Apparently, they’re already in the desert.

It hasn’t gotten better, Fresh lays in her bed, trying to sleep. It’s been over a week now, since the ‘teddy-bear day’. She hasn’t been brave enough to speak to Basil and the priestess certainly hasn’t made any efforts to talk to her, going out of her way to avoid Fresh and the others by locking herself either up on the roof or in the shower for hours at a time, outside of work.

A rattling comes from across the room, from the workshop and she lifts her head, looking at the door.

Shamrock’s crafting has been unsuccessful as well, though he won’t talk about it either. The sounds of work become ever louder, but she recognizes the noises as ones born of frustration. Of things being tinkered together and taken apart, being brushed off of the table with the side of an arm. She isn’t feeling brave enough to talk to him either, but she can’t help but think that the man is feeling troubled as well.

Perhaps he is trying to come up with something that will be of use to them, but is unable to? Or if he has an idea, perhaps he is simply unable to bring it to reality, not having a class or any abilities to do so with?

It makes her feel horrible, but if she had known that it was going to be like this, she would have thrown the bear into the fire herself. Fresh closes her eyes, squeezing the struggling bear tighter.

Maybe tomorrow will be the day that everything goes back to normal?

Tomorrow comes and everything is the same as it was the day before.

Later that coming night, Fresh falls back into bed. “Maybe tomorrow?” she mutters to the bear and falls asleep.

Tomorrow comes and everything is the same as it was the day before.

Later that coming night after that one, Fresh falls back into bed. She opens her mouth to speak, looking at the bear. But tonight, no words come out. She gives up.

It’s over.

Fresh closes her eyes and starts to fall asleep.

“Hey, goo-brain,” says Jubilee, jostling her shoulder. Fresh opens her eyes, looking at Jubilee. She holds her arms out open wide, opening a space in her bed with a quivering lip. Jubilee rolls their eyes, nodding their head to the workshop. “Come on, it’s time. Why are you in bed?”

Fresh blinks. “It’s time for what?”

Jubilee stares at her, sighing. “Have you been zoning out into your weird fucking dreamland all week?” they ask. “Get up. We’re having dinner.”

“Dinner?” Jubilee leans in towards her, lightly flicking her forehead. “Ow!”

“Dinner,” says Jubilee. “Bring a blanket, it’s cold on the roof.”

“The roof?” asks Fresh. Jubilee stares at her and then sighs, snatching the bear away from her before walking away, shaking their head. She wants to protest, reaching after the bear. But she relents, closing her mouth again as she sees it grab Jubilee’s arm and clinging there.

Looking around, confused, Fresh gets up and gets dressed again, grabbing her blanket. Everyone is gone, despite it being their bed-time.

Creeping through the upstairs, she heads towards the workshop and looks at the open hatch. She hasn’t dared even go near it, for fear of Basil proverbially biting her head off if she even attempted to make an approach.

Gulping, she closes the door behind herself and heads up the ladder.

“Anyways,” says Basil’s voice. “I spent ten minutes arguing with him about the price of a third ball of ice-cream,” she sighs.

“That’s why I don’t work the window,” says Jubilee.

“Can you even reach it?” quips Basil.

“Probably after I throw you off of the roof and stand on your fat head I can,” replies Jubilee.

Confused, Fresh looks out of the hatch at the sight of the new roof. She had been locked inside for so many days that she hadn’t even seen the house from the outside. But the roof, once an entirely flat, loveless stone surface has been transformed into something verdant and beautiful.

All around the edge of the roof is a waist high stone wall, encapsulating the rows of standing wooden poles and troughs, covered in already growing vines and ferns. Sprouts jut out of the many wooden basins and she’s sure she can hear water running somewhere, but she wouldn’t have the faintest idea where. Here, by the hatch, the wall is higher and a pavilion is strung over, covering over a round table, adorned with four chairs, two of which are full with Basil and Jubilee. The air smells strong of savory, pleasantly greasy food.

A hand grabs her from the side and pulls her up, Fresh yelps in surprise, noticing that she’s being carried over to the table. “Hi, Shamrock,” she says.

“Hi,” says Shamrock, setting her down on the chair next to Basil and walking back. The two of them look at each other for a moment and then both of them look away.

“Oh no you fucking don’t!” says Jubilee’s voice from the side, snapping their fingers. Fresh turns her head, looking at them. Jubilee has their mask off as the wall here is high enough to hide them from the world. “We’re putting an end to this,” they say, glaring at the two of them, tapping a finger against the table. “Now.”

Fresh blinks, looking around at the table. It’s covered in only the streetiest of street-foods. Fried meats and fish and breads and sweets and salty things. There isn’t a hint of a vegetable or anything home-cooked anywhere to be found.

“Shamrock,” says Jubilee, snapping their fingers.

“Say ‘please’,” says the giant, turning his head around.

Fresh hears the sound of water again and turns her head around to locate the source. Set against the tall segment of wall by the hatch are four large kegs on a stand.

“Fucking please,” sighs Jubilee, rolling their eyes and leaning back over their chair with one arm. “Fuck’s sake.” Shamrock pushes the kegs to the side, setting the stack on top of the hatch and preventing it from being opened again. He comes back, setting a large, glass stein down in front of her, filled with what is undeniably very foamy beer. The next one thuds down next to Basil and then Shamrock goes back and gets two more, setting one down by Jubilee before taking his place at the table.

“What’s all this, Jubilee?” asks Fresh.

“We’re playing a game,” says Jubilee. “You two are gonna love it.”

Fresh scratches her cheek. “Huh?”

“See those?” asks Jubilee, pointing at the stack of small kegs behind her.

“Yeah?” says Fresh, nodding.

“The game is that nobody is leaving this roof until all of those are empty,” says Jubilee. “Fun!”

Basil shakes her head. “I don’t dri -”

“- You do now!” barks Jubilee, interrupting the priestess as they slide the large, glass stein closer to her. “If you can’t talk about your bullshit like the children you are,” they say, looking at the two of them. “Then we’re going to do it like adults. Drink.”

Fresh stares at Jubilee, confused. Her eyes wander around the table towards Shamrock who stares their way just as expectantly as the former, before her gaze passes over Basil, who is fumbling around with her sleeve. Finally, her gaze lands down at the reflection present before herself.

Looking at the girl in the reflection inside of the stein, she watches as she nods once to herself. Fresh lifts the mug and presses it to her lips. She can’t really say that she likes the taste, as it is far more bitter than what she is used to. But, that being said, this is a small sacrifice to make if it means that things have a chance of going back to the way they belong.

She clenches her free fist down beneath the table tightly shut, pressing her eyes shut as she continues to drink her way down through the bitterness.

Then, nearing the bottom, her stomach feeling very full already, Fresh hears the priestess next to her following the good example set by the party-leader.