“I don’t know about thi-IE!” Basil clambers onto the flying broom, wrapping her arms around it as she spins around upside down, hovering above her bed. Letting go, she plops back down onto her mattress, sounding somewhat pained from the small fall. “Ah… Ouch.”

Fresh tilts her head, grabbing the broom and pulling it back down to let Basil try again. “It’s just until you get better, Basil,” says Fresh. “And only here upstairs while the curtains are closed,” she explains.

Basil frowns, seemingly not convinced.

Jubilee crosses their arms. “We can’t waste our time nursing you day and night just because you got a boo-boo, you slacker.” They lift their hand, pointing at the broom. “Get back on that broom.”

“I still feel unwell,” says Basil, leaning back down against her pillow.

“Yeah, no shit?” asks Jubilee. “You were gooier than a slime when Shamrock lugged your fat ass up here.” They point towards the door to the stairs. “You still smell like one. So take that broom and ride it all the way to the shower.”

“Jubilee!” argues Fresh. “Don’t pressure Basil!”

Jubilee rolls their eyes. “Way I see it, Basil needs a little pressure to finally toughen up. Like Shamrock,” they say, looking over their shoulder. Shamrock, standing in the kitchen with the frilly-chicken-apron on, looks over their way and nods.

“Dinner is almost ready,” is all that he says, turning back to the stove.

“Okay. Never mind,” sighs Jubilee.

“Is it safe?” asks Basil, sounding a little worried.

“Is it safe?” replies Fresh in a high tone, as if the answer to this question were obvious. She blinks. “No. No, it isn’t,” she explains. “I almost died last time I used it.”

“Wow. Great,” says Jubilee.

“But!” Fresh runs over to the side of Basil’s bed and picks up the enchanted-lantern from the nightstand. “This little guy will help you out, right?” she asks, lifting the lantern up to her face. A shutter opens up a few inches, before closing itself back down again, like a sleepy eyelid. Smiling, she hangs it on the broom. “Ta-da!”

Basil and Jubilee look at each other and then back towards her. “How is putting a light on the broom going to help?” asks Basil.

“It’s not about the light, Basil,” explains Fresh. “The lantern knows how to fly, so it’ll help you out,” she says. “But it’s not a big deal. I think the furthest you’ll have to go is downstairs to the washroom.” Basil groans, pushing herself up and trying again.

The priestess still doesn’t have much strength and seems to be waning on the edge of wakefulness the entire time and without the broom, she isn’t able to get out of her bed. But she manages to get flown downstairs under the supervision of Jubilee and Fresh takes the chance to remake the priestess’ bed with some clean sheets. These old ones are a bit red.

Jubilee comes up a little later, apparently needing new, non-bloody clothes for Basil and then vanishes downstairs again. By the time the two of them are back upstairs, everything is cleaned up.

“Are you up for dinner, Basil?” asks Fresh. “You should eat.”

“Of course she’s fucking up for dinner,” barks Jubilee. “She’s eating with her mouth, not her legs,” they say.

“It’s okay, Jubilee,” consoles Fresh. “She’s going to be fine.”

“What?” Jubilee places their hands on their hips. “Does that sound like a point of concern for me?”

Basil squeezes Jubilee’s shoulder as she floats to her chair. “Thank you for always worrying about me,” says the priestess.

“Hello?” asks Jubilee, looking around the room. “Are you people even listening to me, or do you just always hear what you want to hear?”

Basil and Fresh exchange a look and then start laughing.

All in all, dinner turns out very nice. Basil is still weak and pale in the face. But it doesn’t feel like anything that a lot of good food and good rest can’t heal. And she certainly seems to be hungry, downing twice the amount she would usually eat. Fresh can’t help but watch in astonishment as the priestess wolfs down her bowl. As long as she is awake, she takes the opportunity to tell her about their ‘escape’ from the dungeon and asks about the odd creature they had encountered.

Listening to her tell her story, Basil continues chewing, but slows down as Fresh gets to the encounter and seems to watch her very carefully as she speaks of the odd, glowing entity.

“Wow, really?” asks Basil, clearing her throat and drinking a glass of water. “You’re sure about what you saw?” she asks, leaning in over her bowl.

Fresh blinks, scratching her cheek. “Of course I’m sure, Basil,” argues Fresh. “I talked to it and everything. It seemed really intense,” she explains. “Like Jubilee gets sometimes.”

“Please leave me out of your conversations from now on,” says Jubilee from across the table.

Basil looks at her and then down at her bowl. “Wow.”

“You said that already,” sighs Jubilee.

The priestess looks back up. “And you’re sure it wasn’t just some weird monster?”

“Basil, I’m super sure!” says Fresh, not sure what Basil is getting at. “I think it was some kind of dungeon-ghost or something.”

The priestess shakes her head, smiling a smug smile at Jubilee. “What?” asks Jubilee. “What’s that look for?”

“It looks like that’s one point for the faith,” she says, marking an invisible tally in the air. Jubilee raises an eyebrow. The priestess smiles with a rekindled warmth, as if some tension somewhere in her body that she had been holding onto for a long time now was finally able to release. “In a sense, you saw exactly that,” affirms Basil, looking at Fresh and then down at the basket of herb-spiced and buttered bread. Willing to pay the price for this information, Fresh slides the basket her way. “Dungeons are living, breathing things,” says Basil. “That’s why they can change and alter themselves as time goes on.”

“So it was the dungeon?” asks Fresh, trying to comprehend the logistics of this.

“No. I wish I could see the church’s library again, but what I think you saw is a dungeon-master,” explains the priestess, dipping her bread into the sauce on her plate and biting into it. “It’s like, uh…” Basil looks around the table. “It’s like the Jubilee of the dungeon.”

“Oooh!” says Fresh, realizing.

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?” barks Jubilee.

“Now that I think about it,” says Fresh. “I think it had pointy ears like Jubilee too.”

“Was it about the same size?” asks Basil.

“Actually…” Fresh thinks for a moment.

“Hello? I’m sitting right here?” asks Jubilee, lifting their hands out to their sides. Shamrock grabs the breadbasket, sliding it their way. Jubilee sighs, giving up and taking a piece of bread.

“That’s probably more of a coincidence than anything,” says Basil.

“Oh,” says Fresh. For a second she thought that maybe Jubilee was something like that in their past life.

“Yes, but the stories of the dungeon-masters always say that they look like featureless children.”

“Yeah, that sounds about right,” says Fresh. “It sure did have an attitude for a kid though.”

Basil yawns, looking down at her plate and pushing it away from herself. Apparently, she has had enough. “Don’t let that fool you. They’re ancient. That creature is probably older than this city,” explains Basil. “They go all the way back to the birth of the faith. I wish I could have talked to it…” she sighs, rubbing her tired eyes.

Seeing that she’s about done. Fresh gets up. “Come on, Basil. I’ll take care of your stuff. Let’s get you to bed.”

Basil doesn’t seem to have much argumentation left in her. Now that she’s eaten, her body seems to have decided that enough is enough and her eyes and head begin drooping rather abruptly. With help of the broom and the lantern, they manage to get the hobbling priestess back into her now clean bed and Fresh is sure that she can hear her start to fidget in her sleep the moment she turns her back to walk to the kitchen again.

“Hey, Jubilee?” asks Fresh. “Can I ask you something personal?”

Jubilee, still nibbling on a piece of bread, looks her way. “Depends.”

“On what?”

“What do you want to know?” asks Jubilee, raising an eyebrow before biting back into their bread. “Good bread, by the way,” they say.

“Thanks,” is all that Shamrock replies with.

Fresh scratches her cheek. “What were you before?” she asks. “You know? Before-before?”

“None of your business,” replies Jubilee dryly.

“Okay. Sorry,” replies Fresh, lifting her hands. “I know I shouldn’t pry. That’s not what this is,” she says, quietly sitting back down. Jubilee sighs. The two of them lift their gaze to stare at Shamrock. Feeling himself being watched, the man stares back at the two of them.

“None of your business,” is all that the man says, reaching over to take Basil’s unfinished dinner.

“Fair enough,” shrugs Jubilee and Fresh does the same.

Fair enough.