The little glass-chicken dangles on her wrist as Fresh hums, walking through the city. She pulls the jacket that she has on a little more tightly closed, relieved to feel how warm it is. Jubilee really did a good job with these, considering they were nothing but some spriggans’ bark and a bit of fluff that they had bought for next to nothing. These clothes are a little plain, but she kind of likes that honestly. The simplicity of her outfit, of her dress and jacket and old boots helps her feel exactly how she wants to feel, perfectly normal. Right now, she’s just a normal person, living a normal, quiet, little life.

“You’re in a good mood today,” notes Basil, adjusting the straps of her bag. It’s full of coins.

“It’s a great day, today, Basil!” remarks Fresh, spinning around as she walks to look at the priestess. She yelps, slipping on a patch of ice on the street and falls down onto her bottom, just barely catching herself on Shamrock who’s next to her.

“Are you alright?” ask the priestess. Shamrock bends down and hoists Fresh back up to her feet.

“Mm!” nods Fresh, dusting herself off. “Thanks, Shamrock,” she beams. The man nods and keeps walking.

“Watch where you’re going, goo-brain,” scolds Jubilee. “If we need to pay for medical treatment, we’re just going to cut off whatever’s broken instead,” they threaten. Fresh laughs, fairly, but not entirely sure that Jubilee doesn’t really mean that. She supposes the uncertainty of it adds to the humor in an oddly morbid way.

The four of them are on their way to city-hall, to buy the house that they’ve chosen; the crooked, witchy house, nestled against the roots of the great tree, just outside of the dungeon.

Honestly, Fresh had wanted the cozy, thin one, since it would offer her friends nowhere to escape to and it felt like it would be particularly warm in this hard winter to come. But Basil had said that she liked the crooked house because of its connection to the world-tree. Jubilee had voted originally for the cozy house, because it was cheaper. But after Fresh made her case, agreeing that it was the right choice, so that they could always reach each other, they had changed their mind and voted for the more expensive property. Shamrock too, voted on the crooked house because of its connection to the natural world.

So, outvoted and outmatched, Fresh switched her vote around too, in order to not only keep the peace, but in order to help make the choice that her friends wanted, even if it isn’t what she herself wanted.

Often, when she hasn’t gotten what she wanted, Fresh would cry and pout and fall into a fit of emotionality, like back with the teddy-bear in the east. However, Fresh had decided back then, after apologizing to Basil, that this isn’t a productive way to be. By throwing a tantrum, by demanding that her own desires be fulfilled, but not those of her friends, she was only allowing the bad-thing to enter into their lives and for what? One house is as good as the other.

It’s as Jubilee had said before, right? ‘They’re the home’. The building is just a structure, just a house. Fresh nods, Jubilee is really smart. Wasn’t there something she wanted to ask Jubilee about? Back in the east, before their vacation? She feels like there was some big issue or something…

“Hmm…” Fresh mutters to herself, scratching her cheek. Basil grabs her wrist, gently pulling it down.

“Don’t pick at your face,” lectures the priestess.

“Sorry, Basil,” apologies Fresh. “It’s just a habit.”

“It’s a bad one,” sighs Basil. “Be kind to your skin while it’s still pretty, okay?”

Fresh blinks and then nods. “Okay.”

“- Or you’re going to have to start wearing a mask like Jubilee,” quips the priestess.

“Fuck you, Basil,” snaps Jubilee, turning around to glare her way.

The priestess stops where she is, thinking for a moment. She frowns. “I’m sorry, that was mean,” she apologizes. “I shouldn’t have said that.”

Jubilee rolls their eyes and turns back forward, keeping on walking. “Fuck you, Basil,” they say again, but with a different tone this time. They sigh.

Fresh looks at her odd friends, happy as ever that they’re figuring out not only who they are, but who they are in relation to one another. Smiling, they head to the city-hall, to officially purchase their now fourth house.

The man looks at their bags as they set them down.

“That one,” says Jubilee, pointing at the ‘witchy’ house on the open map that is spread out over the table. “Is it still available? We want that one.”

The man nods, going over to a bookshelf and checking a ledger for a moment. He looks back their way, nodding again. “It’s available. One-hundred and fifty thousand. Payment in full.”

Jubilee knocks on the bags. “That’s what we got here.”

The man nods, heading back over to them. “Let’s see then,” he says and they start unloading a literal mountain of Obols. Not only from Basil’s bag, but from Fresh’s, from Shamrock’s. Jubilee still doesn’t have a bag, same as ever. They tend to not like wearing them when they can, except to get light things like groceries, because the straps hurt the scars on their body.

Fresh wonders if they shouldn’t have tried exchanging all of these for the larger ten-thousand Obol coins, just to make it easier? But maybe Jubilee didn’t want to do that, not trusting the money exchanges. Knowing them, there’s probably a good reason.

“You’re three-hundred short,” says the man after about fifteen minutes.

“What? Fuck off,” says Jubilee. “It’s all here. One fifty.”

He shakes his head. “You’re three-hundred short. I need the exact amount or I can’t sell it to you.”

“Really? Three-fucking hundred?” asks Jubilee. “There’s one hundred forty-nine thousand seven hundred right there and you’re gonna be a hard-ass about three-hundred?”

The man shakes his head. “There’s nothing I can do. Come back tomorrow with the other three-hundred.”

“Is it still going to be available then?” asks Jubilee.

The man gets up. “There aren’t any other interested parties right now. But it’s first come, first serve, so I can’t promise that nobody will show up overnight.”

Jubilee groans, looking back at them. “We’re going to the dungeon. Let’s go people. Fucking hair-splitting bullshit…” they mutter.

“Wait,” says Basil. “Can we use this?” she asks, taking off her old golden bracelet and holding it out to the man. “It’s worth three-hundred,” she says. “It’s gold.”

The man looks at her and then takes it, examining it and the status window of the item.

“Basil,” says Fresh. “You’ve had that since forever. It’s okay, we’ll just come back tomorrow,” she says.

Basil shakes her head, lifting her arm. “I have a new one now,” she says, showing off the red-string with the little glass ornament on it. “Besides. The gold is a little gaudy, right?”

Fresh frowns. Basil had bought that bracelet back in the north, with some of the very first money that she earned at the store. She’s basically always had the little bangle on since then. “I thought it looked good on you,” says Fresh, looking back at the man from the city who nods, apparently satisfied.

“We can make this work,” he says. He opens a drawer, handing them back their empty bags and then a key. “You can enter the property now. I just need a signature and then we’ll have the paperwork ready by tomorrow.”

Jubilee handles all of that stuff. Fresh meanwhile, finds herself oddly excited by the prospect of a new house for them to nest themselves inside of and also oddly touched at Basil’s sacrifice for their cause. Sure, it was just a bracelet. But it’s also the meaning of the gesture.

A few minutes later, their bags being much, much lighter, the four of them leave the city-hall with one-hundred fifty-thousand Obols less and one small key more than before.

“I hope it’s nice!” says Fresh as they make their way around the city. She’s bouncing as they walk, unable to keep herself contained. She’s always walking faster than the rest of them and then has to slow down and wait for them to catch up with her.

“I’m sure it has four walls,” sighs Jubilee. “Probably a shit-heap.”

“It’s our shit-heap,” says Basil. “If it isn’t nice, we’ll just make it nice. I hope it has a bath,” she says. “The shower was nice. But I miss having a warm bath.” Fresh nods. She shares that sentiment as well.

They make their way across the plaza, ducking and weaving through the crowds of bustling adventurers. Fresh spares a glance to the stall that the muffin-man had once resided in. It still sits empty. She wonders if maybe they should have bought a stall instead of a store? It would have been cheaper. But then again, where would they sleep? It’s cold in a stall.

Maybe in the guild, and then they’d just work at the stall?

She shakes her head. Nah. They have a house now and that’s better in her eyes. Real walls that belong to them and them alone. This is theirs.

“Well?” asks Jubilee, annoyed.

“Well what?” asks Fresh, turning back their way. Jubilee stares at her for a moment, before lifting both of their arms and gesturing to the locked door they’re standing outside of. “Oh!” Fresh laughs and hurries over, sticking the key into the lock and turning it.

Whatever this new house of theirs is going to be, she’s sure of a few different things that are a given. It will be warm, it will be safe and she’s going to do everything that she has in her power to make sure it is and stays that way, so that she and her family might have shelter from the winter that has only just begun.

Fresh opens the door.