《Feast or Famine》Mad Tea Party (Redux) IV
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“Alright, I’m bored of waiting,” I say half a minute later.
I pull a book from the shelf of my inner world’s library and set it atop Cheshire, who shifts and meows but doesn’t object or stop me. Where last we left off in The Machinations of the Ashen Warlock, the impoverished heroine had been thrust into the deadly Trials that all aspiring sorcerers must undergo to earn an apprenticeship. Her strong will and studious nature had carried her through the first few stages, but now she’s up against the villainess, a twin-tailed prodigy from one of the most powerful sorcerer families in their society, and the difference in depth of formal education in sorcery is made stark.
There is, of course, a great deal of sexual tension between the two that I’m at least mostly certain is intentional on the part of the writer. When the villainess humiliates the heroine in magical combat and then lifts the heroine’s chin and sneers down at her, I mean, come on, that’s hella gay.
The story is just as engaging as it was when I started it in that bookshop, but I’m having trouble focusing on it now. This should be exactly my jam, but my reading keeps getting interrupted by spikes of anxiety about the Game of Glass and the kid with the wishing blade.
I grimace, shut the book, and wave over a passing figment. “Hey,” I ask, “can you tell me the status of Dante Reyes?”
The figment smiles and politely shakes its head. “Apologies, Ms. Alice, but we’re not at liberty to disclose information like that. If you’d like, we can pass along a message or a request to Mr. Reyes.”
Yeah, figures that wasn’t going to work. Would make surveillance too easy. “Mm…. maybe. He doesn’t know about figments yet, though I should really tell him before his ignorance makes someone think he’s a lethe drinker. Ah, for now, could you have a figment frame it naturally, as a message passed along by hand?”
The figment nods. “Of course. We wouldn’t want to break the illusion for any guest to whom that illusion is comforting.”
I give a very flat look at that, but there’s really no point picking fights with something that isn’t really a person. “Please ask Dante Reyes how he’s faring, then relay his response.”
“Acknowledged.” There’s a brief pause, and then the figment speaks again. “Mr. Reyes is enjoying the Pyraplex’s many shops, but will try to finish his browsing with reasonable haste.”
I sigh. “Can’t really hold that against him. Hey, Cheshire, I’m going to get up and go grab some food, fair warning.”
Cheshire stretches, then hops off my lap and shifts back into her human form, complete with beanie to hide the cat ears. I banish the book I was reading and meander back into the maze of culinary delights.
One vegetarian burrito later–beans, rice, salsa, guac, cheese, and sour cream–I drum my fingers along the table we’re sitting at and complain to Cheshire, “I need more prepwork to do. More ways to even the playing field between me and the other contenders.”
Cheshire gives me a sympathetic look, but says, “It might do you some good to take some downtime, actually, while grace is in effect. You’ve already got an edge over most of the competition, at least the small fry, and the gulf between you and the heavy hitters like Averrich isn’t something that can be closed in a day of artificing items and tweaking spells. You should try to destress while you have the chance.”
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I slump against the table and grumble, “I hate destressing. Relaxation is so unrelaxing.”
She pats my shoulder. “Think of it like this: you know how, when you’re stressing over an obstacle in a video game, or a bit of writer’s block, or a hard math problem, sometimes the best thing to do is to get some rest and come back to it with fresh eyes? I think you can apply that principle to what we’re doing here. You might be sharper after a bit of R&R than if you were to keep focused and on edge all the way from now to the Game’s start tomorrow.”
I find her logic annoyingly compelling. “Alright, fine. But we’re not being completely unproductive; I’ll think of something to do that’ll be relaxing but also give us a chance to interrogate Dante further.”
Cheshire chuckles. “I’d expect nothing less from you, Allie.”
It isn’t much longer before Dante returns from his shopping. He’s traded the tattered uniform from before for an aggressively bland v-neck and jeans outfit, and he’s added a belt for his sword and a messenger bag for whatever random garbage he picked out from the mall’s plethora of options. He also has at least three shopping bags of miscellaneous goods hanging from one arm.
I rise from where I was sitting and walk over to meet him by the edge of the food court. “So, how was it?”
He grins and raises the shopping bags. “Pretty great. This place is awesome. If it weren’t for the whole ‘terrible death game’ thing, this would actually be a pretty chill vacation.”
“That is the rub, isn’t it?” I breathe deep, roll my shoulders, and make my pitch. “So. I know we talked about it earlier, but, now that you’ve had time to process and maybe think it over, I wanted to check that you’re still interested in working with me. It’s a simple accord: I’ll keep you safe, you’ll make use of those wishes, and together we’ll make sure this death game ends with the key in Esha’s hands and both of us still alive. I know we’ve only just met, and you don’t really have any compelling reason to trust me–”
Dante shakes his head. “No, I trust you. I’m in.”
“Wait, what? Really? You trust me that easily?” I tilt my head at the strange man, baffled at the ease with which he said that.
He shrugs. “I like to think I have a good read for people, and you don’t strike me as a bad person.”
I burst out laughing. “I–I’m literally a demon. I’m a vampire. I turned myself into a demon vampire. I’m an actual real life nightmare fuel monster girl. I–have you seen what I can do with my mouth?” I unhinge my jaw and make my teeth razor-sharp, and then I flick a too-long too-pointy tongue through the air. “Are you seeing this?”
He actually does blink a few times at the display, but then he just shrugs again. “I mean, I think a lot of people would say that’s pretty cool, even some people who aren’t furries or monsterfuckers.” Dante quirks an eyebrow at me. “Do you not want me to trust you?”
I flounder, the wind taken from my sails. “I mean… I guess I was expecting at least a little skepticism.” Why are you complaining about this!? Just take the win! “Like, I was going to slowly defuse the undercurrent of tension by reminiscing about life back on Earth. Are you sure you have a good sense for people? I’m kind of awful. I may genuinely have been the worst person I knew back on Earth, and I only lose that contest here in the Labyrinth because I’m up against literal serial killers and insane conquerors.”
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He does not look like he believes me. “You say that, sure. The thing is, and maybe I’m generalizing, but most of the people I’ve known who talked about themselves like that? It was somebody else who made them feel that way.” He actually looks at me with sympathy, the arrogant prick, and I have to suppress the urge to wipe that look off his stupid smug face.
“Yeah, well, shut up. We’re going on a walk. To a park, or something. I want fresher air and I can’t stand being cooped up in this mall for another minute. I can, like, show you the city, or whatever. Also give me your shopping bags, I have a magic inventory pocket dimension I can stick them in.”
I teleport his bags, then stomp off and grab directions from the nearest figment, Cheshire and Dante trailing behind. We set off to finally leave the Pyraplex, and I stew in my own stupid emotions.
Argh, why is this kid so nice!? And he’s not even dumb nice in a way I could infantilize and dismiss. He’s got, like, empathy and shit! I hate it. Who in their right mind would trust me? What does he think I am?
I think he’s judging us. He’s already pegged us as crazy, you know he has. The table-breaking? The callous disregard for danger? We spaced out and he thought to himself, “Wow, what a fucking space cadet. I better be careful with this wild animal lest it fucking bite me.” He’s not ignorant of our nature as a monster, he’s just acting nice and acting like he trusts us because he’s scared of what we’ll do otherwise.
He is nice! He’s probably genuinely nice! If he were acting this way out of fear, we’d be able to taste that in the air. Can we not trust anyone? Am I not allowed to reciprocate a single goddess-damned ounce of empathy?
Since when have you had empathy? Since when do you care about having empathy? This is all so absurd. You should just kill the brat and be done with it. Take that vorpal blade and snicker-snack on his juicy innards. And hey, with that regeneration, how many meals do you think you could get out of him before he’d finally drop dead? How much mana? That’s a feast begging to be eaten.
I grind my teeth and dig my nails into my palms. I am not going to lose control in front of both of them.
Oh, is that what this is about? Is it–
I dig my nails deeper, and then I remember I can make them clawed, so I do that, and the pain that follows is a joyous balm. I have to suppress the pleased sigh that threatens to bubble out of my throat. Control. I am in control.
I am not a child, I chastise my treasonous thoughts. I am not a child, and I can control my emotions, and I’m not getting dragged down into this infuriating bullshit over something so stupid and minor. I–I don’t even know why I’m reacting like this. Nothing he said really merits such an extreme response.
Your disorder is defined by such extreme responses, the more rational part of me interjects. Dante’s casual assertion of trust was a shock, especially after you’ve spent the last few days obsessing over the difficulty and danger of trusting Cheshire. You lack faith in others, and so it unsettles you when someone has faith in you. And, of course, it’s clear that his implication of victimhood struck a nerve. How will you handle that?
I hum, mood shifted, and I conjure the ruined blouse from my vampire outfit. I wipe my hands on the blouse, cleaning off the droplets of blood drawn by my claws, and then I send the blouse back to my throne world. Yeah. It’s all cognitive dissonance, right? The self, the image of the self, and the world reflecting the self. I just have to reframe things and play the right part. This is nothing new for me, there’s no great difficulty here. Just play the game and follow the rules.
“Dante!” I suddenly say aloud. “Let’s play a game.”
“Hmm?”
I twirl around and clap my hands together, walking backwards as we stroll through the streets of the Sanctuary toward our destination. “I cannot possibly wade through a river of blood alongside you if I don’t know at least a few details about you–your hopes, your fears, your waifus–and I’m sure you’d appreciate learning a few things about the creature that is to be your bodyguard and escort in the vicious, brutal game to come.” I show a toothy grin. “So let’s get to know each other. You ask a question, I answer, you answer, then I ask a question, you answer, I answer, repeat until we’re both bored of it. Sound fun?”
He sticks his hands in his pockets and gives me an easy, “Sure, why not.”
“Great!” I twirl back around and slow my pace just enough to be walking between Dante and Cheshire. “Question the first: how do you answer to the trolley problem, the prisoner’s dilemma, the ship of Theseus, and the ultimate question of free will?”
His face goes blank. “What?”
Cheshire snickers beside me. “Really going for the throat, huh? Those should really all count as different questions, you know. They’re literally essay material.”
“Bah! Bah, I say. But yeah, no, fair. Better first question: what’s one piece of media that you get made fun of for liking but will defend to the death? The thing you can’t say you like without sounding at least a little defensive about liking it, because you always have to argue against people telling you you’re wrong or that it’s shit.” I peer at him expectantly, hands clasped behind my back and leaning in.
“Interesting question. I don’t know that I have very controversial taste in most things.” Dante hums and chews his lip, thinking about it, and then he winces and laughs. “Yeah, that’s the one. Okay, uh. Hoo boy. How do I say this?”
“Off to an excellent start,” I say gleefully.
“Okay, so, there’s this game that my friend bought me as a joke. It’s a puzzle game, one of those matching games where you have to move the tiles together. And it was actually a pretty engaging game! Like, the gameplay is solid, it’s got a surprising amount of depth for what’s essentially just a time-wasting mobile game. But it, uh, also happens to have a lot of… let’s call it ‘fanservice.’”
“Wait, are you talking about HuniePop?”
He winces again. “Ah, so you’re familiar.”
I laugh at him. “That’s actually hilarious. I was not expecting you to pick the shitty match-3 softcore porn game, but that’s incredibly funny. I mean, hey, no judgment, I played it too. Audrey best girl.”
He protests, “I didn’t play it for–wait, isn’t that the really bitchy mean girl?”
“Mhm!” I grin. “She’s the one who says, ‘did I hurt your whore feelings?’ which has since permanently entered into my lexicon. A truly delightful creature. Who was your favorite?”
“Definitely not telling. Your turn: what are your controversial takes?”
“Vriska did nothing wrong,” I immediately respond.
“Who?”
I glare at the baffled man. “How do you not know Homestuck? Whatever, fine. Infect was one of the most interesting mechanics ever added to Magic: The Gathering and everyone who complains about it is a whiny baby because it’s not even a competitive deck in any of the formats that it’s legal in, so how the hell can you call it too fast when it’s literally too slow for Modern!? Absurd.”
“I do not play Magic, so I have no idea what most of that meant.”
“Okay, fine, here’s a different one: The Last Jedi was the best Stars Wars movie, fuck you fight me.” When that fails to get a strong reaction out of him I immediately follow up with, “4th edition was the single greatest edition of Dungeons & Dragons, objectively, and I will literally kill anyone who disagrees. It fixed the martial-caster imbalance, it added minions and healing surges and tags, and it fucking worked! And then a bunch of loser grognards couldn’t handle that their precious game was different and actually functional, so they threw a tantrum and ruined everything.”
He gives me an odd look and then chuckles. “You know, I actually have a friend who says nearly the same thing, about that last one. You kinda remind me of him. My turn to ask a question?”
“Yeah, go for it.”
He nods, picks his words, and starts to ask something, but then pauses and glances over at Cheshire. “Is she not going to take part in this, by the way?”
Cheshire waves at him and says, “Don’t worry about me. You should just think of me as Alice’s shadow; where she goes, I go, and what she decides, I support her in. I’m perfectly comfortable staying in the background.”
He shrugs. “Alright. My question, then: let’s say you had one week to do whatever you wanted. You’d have whatever resources you needed, no other concerns to manage, just one week to spend however you like. What would you do?”
I blow out air and lace my hands behind my head. “Man, that’s a hard one. What would I do…” Well I can’t tell say “rule the world” or anything like that. Mm, what would I do, if I did have all the resources I want, godhood included? “I would… attempt to make those resources permanently available to me even after the week has ended.”
Dante rolls his eyes. “Come on, that’s such a cop-out answer. That’s like saying you’d wish for three more wishes.”
“I mean, I totally would, but that’s fair, you’re right. I would…” Seriously, what the hell would I do with a week like that?
If I’m not pursuing more power, what’s worth doing? What do I intend on doing once I have all the power I need? What am I going to do when I get the things I want? Can I not conceive of such a thing? Do I not have a vision of what comes next? Whatever, we need to answer something more normal anyway.
“I think that I would try to make something. I’d spend a week working on a book, or maybe a video game.”
He looks at me skeptically. “Could you make either of those in a week?”
I shrug. “I’m interpreting ‘resources’ pretty broadly. Either way, I guess I’d just try to be productive.”
“Wild.” He shakes his head in disbelief. “Are you one of those workaholics who get anxious at the very thought of taking a vacation?”
I snort. “Hardly. I’m like sloth incarnate most days, that’s why I’d use that week to get something done. I take it you’d go on some kind of big vacation, then?”
“Oh yeah, hundred percent. I’d get my friends together and we’d all go on a trip around Europe, hitting up all the major landmarks. Do you know how much food culture is spread throughout just a dozen countries? I once spent a whole day mapping out the best route to hit all the best eateries in a single trip, just on the off chance I’ll be able to afford it some day.”
“You’ve clearly put a lot more thought into this than I have. Alright, let me think of another question.”
We reach the park as I ponder, and for a second I’m disoriented by the sudden shifting of our surroundings. One moment we’re walking through the incredibly urban streets, stone and steel all around us, and then an idyllic scene of cultivated nature stretches out before us and behind us, the city skyline only visible in the distance thanks to the towering size of the central amphitheater.
The park is lush, full of green meadows and winding trails, tall trees, a pond with ducks, and people walking their dogs or settling in for picnics. It’s a shockingly human scene, even more than anything I’ve seen in the mall or at that nightclub I nearly died at. There are just people here, enjoying life, even if most or all of them can’t really enjoy anything.
Dante is way more disoriented than I am, and he whirls around and stares back the way we came, a bit of panic creeping into his eyes and into the tone of his voice. “What happened? Where did the city go? Did we get teleported or something?”
“Nah, that’s just how this place is,” I say casually, stretching and enjoying the fresh air and the scents of the natural world. “Cheshire, you explain it.”
Cheshire smirks at me, but complies. “You both come from a world that obeys entirely physical laws, but the Labyrinth is a conceptual world and obeys conceptual laws. Some laws appear the same, like gravity, but others will be jarringly different. Distance in the Labyrinth is conceptual, and that manifests in a few ways. You’ve seen a bit of that, with the mirror portals, and now you’re seeing another aspect. The Labyrinth is a fragmentary world, composed of many smaller sub-worlds. They’re not truly different worlds, but their connections are conceptual, not physical. It would be inaccurate to say that you’re a few feet away now from where you were a moment ago, and it would also be inaccurate to say that you’re a mile away, despite appearances to suggest either. You’re in the park, which is a separate district of the Sanctuary from the area surrounding the mall. You’ll see that shift again when we leave, and likely more times over the course of the next few days.”
“That is freaky,” Dante mutters.
“That is not even close to the freakiest thing about this setting,” I laugh. “Alright, I’ve got my next question: do you prefer solitary, social, or competitive hobbies?”
We start walking along one of the park trails as Dante thinks up his answer. “That’s an interesting one, I’ve never thought of them that way. My main interests are cooking and fighting games, which I guess you could say are solitary and competitive hobbies, respectively, though I think there’s a social aspect to both. I also make time to play in a D&D game twice a month with some of my friends.”
I clap my hands excitedly. “Ooo, nice! What edition? And what’s your character build?”
“We play 5th edition, and I’ve never played any of the others. As far as build, uh, I don’t really think about that stuff all that much.” He scratches his head sheepishly. “My first character was a dwarf cleric, entirely because I saw it in a webcomic that my friend kept trying to get me to read, and he helped me build the character. He was more into the wargaming aspect than me, though, and the character was more complex than I felt comfortable playing, so they let me switch to a human barbarian. I don’t really think a lot about stuff like character build, I just roll dice and hit things with a big stick.”
“Perfectly valid way to play. I am the kind of degenerate that can’t help but minmax and optimize everything, so I’d probably start twitching if I saw your character sheet, but I can respect the mentality behind it.”
“Ha. Yeah, you really sound like that guy sometimes. Anyway, how about you?”
I have an answer for this one prepped and ready, so I launch into it. “My main hobby back home was playing Magic. It’s a card game with complex rules and an emphasis on interaction between game pieces and between player and opponent. To truly master the game, you have to understand not only the individual game pieces and how they fit together but also the environment you’re building a deck for and how your opponents are likely to act. I enjoy sinking my teeth into a particular format of the game and steadily improving my skills at both deckbuilding and moment-to-moment decision-making. I do it for the satisfaction of feeling clever but also because, in all honesty, I just really enjoy winning. It’s absolutely a competitive hobby for me.”
I’m also something of a sadist and specifically gravitate toward archetypes that will cause my opponent as much pain as possible, but let’s leave that part out. There’s a fine line between enjoying healthy competition and seeking a socially acceptable outlet for sadistic impulses, and I’d prefer he thinks I lie on the former end.
“That aside, I believe the next question is yours.”
“Hmm, yeah.” He points over at the duck pond and says, “Let’s go say hi to the ducks.”
“Sure.”
We head over that way, breaking from the path to cross the crisp grass, and Dante asks his next question: “Before all this stuff with magic and monsters and other worlds, what did you want to do in life? What did you want to be? Did you have any driving ambition?”
A god. I wanted to be a god. I still want to be a god. Nothing else could possibly matter. I clear my throat and say, “I, uh, I wanted to be a writer when I was younger, but I eventually gave up on that when I realized it was never going to happen.”
He tilts his head curiously. “Why not?”
“Ah, well… it’s hard. Writing isn’t really about talent, is the thing. I had talent, lots of it, but talent is worthless if you don’t have a good work ethic. Or, more charitably, if you’ve got a disorder or two sabotaging your ability to develop a good work ethic.”
“Oh, like ADHD?”
“Something like that, yeah.” Try autism and borderline with a smattering of symptoms from the rest of Cluster B, but sure, let’s go with that one. Better optics. “It’s not a big deal, though. I got over it a long time ago, and now I have magic. What’s your ambition?”
“Oh, that’s easy: I want to be a chef. I love cooking for people, I love food, I love learning about food from different parts of the world. I’m even taking some culinary arts courses online.”
“Huh, neat.” I sit down by the edge of the pond and skip a rock across, aiming away from where the birds are. “What do you enjoy about cooking?”
Dante sits down next to me, and Cheshire sits on my other side. He says, “There’s a lot to like about it. You get to make something, you get to see people appreciate your hard work, and it tastes good too. Plus, hey, it’s real popular with the opposite sex.”
I snort-laugh. “I suppose that’s one reason. Plenty of guys wouldn’t know how to fry an egg if you showed them a manual. Next question: what’s your favorite video game? You said you were into fighting games, right?”
He nods. “Yeah, that’s most of what I play. Actually’s that’s basically all I really play, nowadays. I’ve played a bunch. I like Guilty Gear and Melty Blood, try to keep up with those, but my main game is Smash Ultimate. I like any fighting game that has a big enough roster to get some real variance in movesets.”
“No memory problems? That’s one of the things that kept me out of Dota, though I hear the competitive players don’t really struggle with it despite the hundred-some heroes.”
He wiggles a hand. “Kinda. It’s not usually a problem, especially for the pros, but Ultimate is getting to that point.”
“Mm. Smash is the only fighting game I’ve played, for the record. I mean I’ve played like, a teensy amount of BlazBlue, but I hated it. Liked Smash, though. I mained Meta Knight in Brawl.”
Dante laughs. “Did you know he was banned from tournament play? He warped the competitive scene so much that he ended up being the first and only character to be banned in Smash’s entire history.”
“Damn. That probably explains why I liked him so much.”
He grins. “That competitive side of you, eh? Alright, what’s your favorite video game?”
“I was massively into World of Warcraft for probably over a decade. I raided with a guild for a while, got into PvP for a time, but I spent most of my time solo leveling and collecting rare items. It was a game that I really felt like I understood, something I could genuinely get good at it with the right time and effort. It’s also way more intricate and engaging than people who don’t play it give it credit for.”
“WoW, huh? I actually got sucked into that for about a year before I realized how much of my time it was eating and I quit cold turkey. I played during, what was it, mists of something?”
I wriggle and grin. “Mists of Pandaria! The best expansion. It was great, it had some of the best world design, solid class design, awesome questing…”
I proceed to ramble about World of Warcraft for an unknown length of time, getting completely lost in infodumping about my special interest, until I am interrupted by a tap on the shoulder and a familiar voice.
“Hey,” says Lena with a smile. “I was hoping I’d find you again.”
Immediately my infodump slams to a stop and I’m thrown back to the last time I saw Lena, when she was stumbling away from me with a big hole in her neck. This was the girl–the figment–that I fed on in the nightclub. My first meal. The girl I almost killed.
I have no idea how to feel about that, so I quickly say, “Hey, uh, Dante, wait right here, I’ll be back,” and stand up to move away from where he and Cheshire are sitting.
Lena leads me to a nearby tree big enough that we can both stand behind it and be mostly obscured from the two by the pond. I follow her and I watch her closely, noting the faint scar on her neck and the same outfit as before and the way that she’s not dead.
I wasn’t really certain, after the condition I left her in, if she was going to make it. I drank a lot of blood, after all, and our departure was violent, even if she was immediately escorted away by her friends. But here she is, in the flesh, still alive.
Lena smiles at me, again. “Hey.”
“Hey,” I respond awkwardly. “You’re not dead.”
She laughs. “Are you surprised?”
“Kinda, yeah.”
She tilts her head. “Are you disappointed?”
“What? No, of course not. I didn’t mean to kill you. I wasn’t trying to… I didn’t want to take too much, I just got so lost in the moment. I’m sorry.” And I actually kind of am, as weird as that feeling is. “I’m glad you lived.”
Lena rubs her neck and says, “I am too. Well, not really, obviously, because I’m not a real person and I can’t feel glad about anything, but you know what I mean.” She keeps smiling as she reminds me what she really is, and I shiver.
The figments of the city unnerve me in fascinating ways. I want to keep talking to them. I want to get to know them. I want to dissect them. I stare at Lena and I remember the way she acted shy and sweet and flirty when she first approached me, and I remember the way she so casually admitted that she wasn’t a real person. She’s just a fake.
I raise two fingers to the mark on her throat and feel the warmth of her pale skin and the pulse of the blood flowing through her tall, lithe body. She is alive in the sense of meat, but she tells me that she cannot think or feel and that all evidence to the contrary is just part of the illusion. She is no more a person than any of the monsters I shaped inside my throne world.
But she can lie so very convincingly, and does truth really deserve to be given more weight than a lie? When I unsheath my claws and the sharpened tips dig into the skin of her throat and her breath catches, eyes wide, lips parted, should that masterpiece of acting be discarded and ignored simply because it is only acting?
I retract my claws and brush my hand through her soft platinum hair, attention still locked on the microexpressions of her face. The removal of danger stimulus should prompt relief, but instead I see disappointment in the fall of her eyelids and lips and the deep exhalation of her breath. Her character is motivated by attraction to danger, and the risk to her life is the very thing that drew her back to me, is the story she’s telling me.
Softly, I say, “When we met, you told me your purpose was to make people happy. Is that really your purpose? Is that the only reason you found me again?”
In the lair of the Beast, when it tried to force its shard on me, it used Lena to make a point. I saw her there only for a moment, like a phantom image, but it shook me. And now that I understand the connections between figment, throne world, and guiding will, I have to wonder: is Lena really acting on autopilot, just another attendant feeding lotus flowers to all who enter the paradise garden?
Or is she the Labyrinth’s response to Cheshire?
Lena takes my hand in hers, intertwined between strands of hair. “A girl can have lots of reasons for doing something, can’t she? My purpose is to make you happy. My motivation is allure. And if that happens to give you more options to consider… isn’t that for the best?”
I hear a growl from behind me, and then Cheshire is at my side, glaring at Lena with murder in her eyes. I gently extricate my hand from Lena’s and watch the two of them, intrigued by this about-face; last time they were in the same room together, Cheshire was encouraging me to flirt with Lena.
Lena beams beatifically at the changeling. “It’s nice to see you again, Cheshire. You were a wonderful help, that night in the club.”
“You were supposed to die,” Cheshire hisses. “You were supposed to be food. If those hunters hadn’t been there, you’d be a corpse right now.”
Ah. It clicks: Cheshire was so willing to put me in the arms of another woman because she was expecting me to overfeed and kill that woman. Lena was meant to be a sacrificial lamb for the sake of my mana, but she lived.
Lena acts wounded by Cheshire’s words. “Now, now, there’s no need for that. Do we really have to fight over Maven’s affections? Don’t you think she’d be happier with two girlfriends?”
I wonder: would I enjoy seeing Cheshire kill Lena, or would I be horrified? I’ve always loved the yandere trope in fiction, the lovesick crazy girl willing to murder her rivals to be the sole recipient of her love interest’s affections… but reality and fiction have different contexts, and now I’m not so certain if that’s what I want most. Would Cheshire killing Lena prove her love for me, or would it just be another sign of a manipulator trying to isolate me? Of course, I’ve promised to trust Cheshire, and I’ve made no such promise toward Lena.
Cheshire laughs and says scornfully, “You’re not even a person. You wouldn’t be her girlfriend, you’d be a toy for her to play with until it breaks. A thing to be pulled apart piece by piece.”
Lena bites her lip and hugs herself. “And doesn’t that sound wonderful? To be known beneath the knife? To be put in such perilous danger for nothing more than another’s pleasure? You should know that, Cheshire. You’ve lived it.”
Cheshire’s nails bite into her palms. “I was made for Alice. Made perfect for her, made to be exactly what she wants. I know her more intimately than you ever will. I can help her. I can support her. You’re weak, but I’m strong, and with me at her side she will devour gods and archdemons until she stands before the throne of the Demiurge and eats her too.”
“Ah, but are you really what she wants? Or just what she thinks she wants? You feed her hungers, but she can never be in control around you, with you, of you, because of the very nature of your being and how you were remade. Face it, Cheshire: you weren’t made to be perfect, you were made to be flawed.”
Cheshire’s face flashes with emotion–rage, hate, fear–and she takes a step forward, tension coiling in every muscle, but when I reach out and squeeze her shoulder she stops.
“I have a proposal,” I interject. “Let’s settle this another time. I don’t know if you’ve heard, but there’s a big scary death game that I have to deal with for the next however many days, and I’m going to be a little too busy trying to survive to think about girlfriends or dating or anything like that. But! You both make some interesting points, and I do wish to pursue this thread further, so how about this: after I’ve won the Game of Glass, let’s all go on a date–you, you, and me–and then we can sort all this out. Does that work for everyone?”
“I’m fine with that,” Lena answers immediately.
Cheshire, having no choice but to agree or lose ground, reluctantly nods. “If that’s what you want.”
“Then it’s settled! I look forward to a nice day with you both. Now, Cheshire, I think we should get back to Dante before he starts to get concerned. It was lovely to see you again, Lena.”
“Likewise, Maven.” She curtsies, gives me a wink, and walks off, Cheshire glaring at her as she goes.
“So,” I say to Cheshire. “That went interesting. Oh, don’t sulk; I’m taking you on a date once this is over! That’s a step in the right direction, isn’t it?”
The changeling swallows, nods, and finally replaces her angry expression with a smile. “Yes. Yes, that’s right. I’m very grateful for that opportunity, thank you.”
“I’m sure it’ll be fun for everyone. Now let’s head back to Dante.”
I round the tree and start heading in his direction, but slow as I see another person talking to him, what looks like a man in plain garb. Another figment? Soul sight confirms it.
Dante waves as we approach. “Hey, Alice. There’s a message for you. It’s from that woman, Esha.”
I quicken my pace. “A message?”
The figment smiles at my arrival. “An invitation, to be precise. You, along with several other key individuals in the city, have been invited by the Myriad to attend a summit being hosted at the community center. Esha wishes to discuss the Game of Glass while a truce is still in effect, She believes that a nonviolent solution is still possible, or, failing that, the establishment of terms of conduct that may prevent this conflict from bringing ruin to the city and its inhabitants. Are you interested in joining?”
“Yes, absolutely.” My plan was to ally with Esha even before the Game was announced, and now it’s a key part of my strategy for keeping Dante friendly. “We’ll head there right away. Please let Esha know we’re coming.”
The figment bows. “Of course. I’ll go at once.”
He leaves, and I look to Dante and Cheshire. “Well, this is convenient.”
Cheshire raises an eyebrow. “Do you think this summit will actually work?”
I laugh. “Oh, not a chance. But it’ll give us a good view of the competition, and it’s an excellent excuse to establish contact with Esha and discuss forming an alliance.”
Dante frowns. “I think we should still try for a nonviolent option if we can.”
“I’m not opposed to it, I just don’t think Averrich or Vaylin will go for it in a million years. But, hey, we’ll give it our best shot. I’m certainly not going to try and sabotage Esha’s plans when I’m hoping to join her team.”
He nods. “Alright then. Shall we get going?”
“Let’s.”
And with that, we set off for the Myriad’s temple.
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What would you do if you were granted magic? Anna was an ordinary girl. Well, as ordinary as a girl living in an orphanage could hope to be. When she witnesses a murder, her whole world changes. Not only did the murder she witnesses involve a magical battle, but now it seems as if Anna has been granted magic herself.If that wasn’t enough for her to deal with, she now has a magical assassin chasing her as well as a sorcerer's council that believes she is the murderer. Can Anna escape the magic thief and convince the council that she’s innocent in the murder of one of the most powerful sorceresses of all time? Luckily for Anna, she has a lot of experience with running from her problems.
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In a game things are supposed to be fair. rules are put in place that apply to everyone. everyone has the same chance of finding that hidden class or legendary equipment dropping on your first try. Jacob Wild was born with an amazing brain that saw the world in a way nobody else's could. Jacob used this to play the rules of any game to his favour and truly become the greatest gamer.This depicts his travels through both the real and virtual world. I hope you enjoy.
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