“You’re late. Why are you late?”

Sirena’s tone heavily implied that she knew exactly why Fey had been slow to log in to Fantasia, but she wanted to make Fey admit it out loud.

Fey could feel the tips of her ears turning red, something quite prominent given her long, pointy ears and moon-pale skin. She nonetheless feigned calm and stared (glared) at the mermaid. “None of your business.”

Sirena grinned as if Fey had confessed. “Did you two use the manual I sent? How was it?” She managed to make something as mundane as the word “manual” sound like a racy innuendo.

Of the watching audience, only Blade was being taken in by the joke. Mimi ignored the conversation in favour of adjusting their guild settings while the Feypets held a squeaked discussion regarding what exactly a manual was. Leandriel was no longer in the party, having returned to his in-game work and his work avatar.

With the angel’s absence, Fey regained much of her usual resistance to embarrassment and chose to answer in a way that deepened Blade’s misunderstanding. “Yes, he found it very helpful, thank you.”

Sirena’s expression turned smug. “I am going to get so much revenge for all the times you made fun of my dating life.”

Fey scoffed. “I was mocking you for grave errors in judgement,” referring to her friend’s tendency to prioritize good looks over other traits that might lead to a stable long-term relationship. “I, on the other hand, have made an impeccable choice by any objective standard.”

Sirena certainly had nothing she could fault Leandriel with (accusing someone of being unrealistic wasn’t exactly a rational criticism), but that did not mean she lacked ammunition against Fey. “Hey, remember that time you didn’t realize that your boyfriend was a real person for a solid six months?”

Fey cringed. (Mock was super effective!) “Nooo! You can’t bring that up whenever you want to win an argument!”

“Only when you start making fun of my judgement,” Sirena said with an evil smile. “Now tell me exactly what you were doing that made you late.”

Fey capitulated, mainly because she really did not want further reminders of the largest screwup she had ever made, but partly because she knew the answer would disappoint her friend. “I just kept him company while he unpacked and then we ate dinner and talked. He lives on the VirtualRealities campus, by the way. They have a nice caf. It took me a while to get home after that.”

“…I don’t even know what I was hoping for, given that it’s you. Why were you even blushing?” Sirena demanded, testy at being denied any scandalous gossip.

Fey did not have an explanation other than the fact that her relationship with Leandriel was new and unfamiliar and so wonderful that the idea of it disappearing left her floundering in a realm of vulnerability and need that she was entirely unused to. Since she was not about to spout such romantic nonsense where anyone could hear her, she tried to change the subject. “Can we get back to gaming?” she asked plaintively.

As always, Mimi came in right when Fey needed her help. “There’s a pet tournament coming up,” she announced. The sniper almost always kept a virtual screen open to the VirualRealities forums and was aware of major game developments and events almost the moment they were announced.

Thoughts of romance fled at the prospect of fulfilling a long-held childhood dream. “Like, pet versus pet only, no players involved?” Fey asked.

Mimi nodded.

“It’s a Pokemon tournament!” Fey and Sirena squealed in unison. (They are such best friends.) They launched into an enthusiastic rendition of the show’s original theme song, with Sirena pulling out all the stops with her bard skills to provide the full backing instrumentation as well as harmonizing with the melody.

Blade’s eyes widened. This was by far the strongest attack buff Sirena had ever produced. “Woah. Why didn’t you do this before when we were fighting?”

Sirena rolled her eyes. “You can’t just do an outstanding performance whenever. It’s relative to your usual level of skill, so there has to be something special that pushes it above and beyond.”

“You can, however, get ‘amazing performance’ every time, if you’re good enough,” Fey pointed out, referring to the bonus that added 25% buffing effect and also the fact that Sirena only attained it approximately a third of the time she used bard skills.

Sirena glared. “You want to go back to talking about how dumb you are?” she threatened.

Fey bid a hasty retreat. “I need to go find Caleb to make some things,” she announced. “I assume it’s just 1v1 combat?”

“Obviously. You think anyone else could field a team for 6v6?” Sirena said while Mimi nodded.

Fey shrugged. “I mean, you never know. It’s not exactly hard to get pets.” She scooped up three glooms that were clinging to her to make her point.

“Okay, most people get pets by purchasing ruinously expensive eggs, not by having monsters follow them home,” Sirena pointed out.

“I mean, yes, but it’s not like they couldn’t.”

Mimi chimed in with a rare comment. “Your success rate is ten times higher than your skill description indicates.”

Fey blinked. “Really?” She checked her status screen and found the level 6 Monster Tamer. “It says 45% success rate. I can’t be ten times more successful than that.”

“I mean, if you consider the fact that you weren’t even trying to tame a pet most of the times you got one, yes you can,” said Sirena. “Also, you got to level 6 after Squishy, right? The level was lower for all the pets you tamed.”

“Okay, so what’s my secret?” Fey asked, half joking and half genuinely curious to see if Sirena had any special insights to the statistical aberration.

“I think its your brand of loving bullying,” Sirena said, not mincing words with the unflattering description.

“Do I bully you guys?” Fey asked her pets in a baby voice.

Eight heads nodded in unison. (Squishy remained inscrutable.)

“…And that made you want to come with me?” she asked, taken aback.

Amethyst squeaked. (“Seemed safer than the alternative.”). Boris and the gloomed chimed in with agreement.

Fey still did not have any way of precisely translating her pets’ vocalizations, but suspected that they were not being particularly flattering. “You only love me for my scariness,” she lamented. “And probably my food.”

Shadow squeaked a disagreement, as the glooms did not need food and instead restored their energy by hiding in the darkness of her backpack for a few hours every few days.

Fey patted the gloom, forgiving her pets any faults because they were cute. (Who knew that pedantry was a trait you had to tolerate in pets?) “Okay, off we go.”

Fey opened a guild portal, which would take her to the last location she had teleported to the Elvenwood from, Caleb’s workshop. “Anyone else coming?”

Sirena, Blade, and Mimi shook their heads, not having any items to request and knowing that Fey would take care of their deliveries while she was in Mountaingate.

“Cool then. See you later!” Fey disappeared through the portal.

Blade looked at his remaining party members. “Either of you planning on entering the pet tournament?”

Mimi and Sirena shook their heads, neither of their pets suited to independent combat. Shifty, as a weapons spirit, required a wielder. Squishy the jellyfish had had the potential to develop decent combat capabilities centred around the neurotoxic stings in its tentacles, but as Sirena had used it as a magic conduit and elemental amplifier for water-based spells, it had instead accumulated passive abilities related to magic amplification. “You?” Sirena asked. “Firefly isn’t a boss monster like Amethyst, but I think she’d do pretty well in a tournament.”

Blade pet the fyrfalcon perched on his shoulder. Firefly had not gain any surprising or game-changing abilities as she had grown in level (mainly because the irresponsible author has basically forgotten to include her in any of the adventures to date despite the fact that she has obviously been there the whole time since they returned from the underwater adventures and she’s too lazy to spend time thinking about how those events might have triggered special abilities), but as promised by the pet shop owner, she had gained formidable diving attacks as well as the ability to conjure small fire tornadoes that could do serious damage even to monsters with very high defensive capabilities. Unlike the Feypets, who routinely used their own judgement to determine the best way to help their owner, Firefly relied a lot more on direct commands, but that would be allowed in the tournament. “I guess I will, if there are nice participation prizes.”

Firefly made a confident screech, eager to show off her capabilities.

“Cool,” said Sirena. “You can do some practice matches against Fey and Amethyst.”

At the mention of the monstrously overpowered slime, Firefly tucked her head in as if to shelter from a storm, confidence lost.

“Aww, it’s okay,” Sirena comforted the frightened bird. “We’ll find some random players to do practice matches.”

***

Leandriel logged into his work avatar for the first time in a week, flexing the wings that had reappeared now that he had returned to level 109. It was the first time he had entered the game after Fey, having waited until she had messaged him she was safely home before preparing for bed and putting on the game helmet.

As Leandriel had not gained ownership of the mushroom until after reaching level 100, when he used his level-locked account, the mushroom reverted to the level 20 he had been when he had left Fey’s possession. It would take Fey at least another year before she reached level 100 and Magic would be able to use his death angel form during their non-work adventures. (The author just realized that this would be extremely disorienting to the poor mushroom but we’re just going to ignore it and move on with the story.)

Leandriel already considered Amethyst’s abilities to be quite ludicrously overpowered in a nearly game-breaking fashion, their effect on the game blunted by the fact that Fey was a casual player who had no ambitions to compete in the rankings. The idea that there were even more pets like her, hiding other insane abilities, was something he would need to report to the developers in charge of game balancing. He doubted that they would do something as crude as nerfing abilities that had already been granted to existing pets, so he was not worried that the report would harm Amethyst.

Leandriel smiled.

She sent a devil emoticon. He chuckled.

Leandriel took a deep breath and asked something that he only dared because of the manual Leah had sent him.

Leandriel sighed in relief; the manual had clearly told him to ignore polite boundaries and act like they were in a long-established relationship, and it appeared that it was right.

She sent him a heart emoticon.

***

Fey adjusted her system alarm to log out an hour earlier than usual so she could give her house a frantic cleaning before she went to work in the morning. She was somehow totally okay with the theoretical idea of Leander being in her home and personal spaces, but not at all okay with the actuality of him seeing the chaotic mess that resulted from months of leaving everything where she put it down and never being bothered enough to actually take time to put everything away.

She had appeared to the street outside Caleb’s workshop, having chosen to avoid teleporting directly into the demon smith’s personal spaces in consideration for his love of privacy and quiet. Walking up to the door, she knocked, trying to arrange her face into its usual calm expression.

She must have failed, because as soon as Beth opened the door, she asked, “Did something good happen?”

Before Fey could admit to being a lovestruck fool excited by the prospect of takeout with her favourite person, Beth continued. “Oh, the pet tournament! You must be excited, right?”

Fey seized the excuse for all it was worth. “Yes. Is Caleb around?” (I mean, it’s not really an excuse if it’s the primary reason for her visit. It was the romance stuff that was a tangent. *poked by author for excessive pedantry*)

“He’s upstairs. There’s a soundproof room for when he’s doing especially delicate work.” Beth led the way to the staircase in the back of the workshop.

Fey enjoyed how her excessive stamina in game allowed her to climb the stairs without feeling short of breath. She was free to engage in conversation as they walked. “So, what are you up to these days?” she asked the sun elf. “If Caleb’s closed up shop to the public, there must be a lot less for you to do.”

“Oh, I like to draw,” Beth answered. “I’m getting plenty of practice these days, and the drawing materials I have access to are amazing.” She spoke with the relish of someone who could happily spend hours in a stationery store.

“Cool! Could I see some of your work?”

“Of course.” Beth summoned a large sketchbook with some sort of spatial storage skill and handed it over.

Fey sat on the top step of the stairs to flip through the pages.

The sketchbook was a wordless record of the sun elf’s journey throughout the continent of Pantheel. The early pages were filled with simple pencil sketches that depicted the desert environment of her starting town, many studies of players, NPCs, monsters, and the unique architecture of the sun elves, their homes grown organically from magic-hardened sand with a technique very similar to their moon elf cousins’ way with trees.

As Beth began to travel, her sketches evolved, depicting long lines of camels and more magical desert pack animals traversing endless sand dunes in grand caravans, giant tent cities that appeared almost overnight as trade fairs were held, and the stark beauty of an endless starry night. She also began to do more formal portraits, couples and groups of friends that were likely commissioned work that she used to pay for her travels. This was when her drawings began to take on colour, simple pencil blended and shaded to create dimensionality and vibrancy that seemed almost magical.

Fey could tell the exact page where Beth had met Caleb. Her subject matter suddenly changed; it did not include Caleb himself, but his work and tools, depicting the delicate beauty of his gemstone work, the roaring heat of the forge, the meticulous organization of his carving knives, all with a level of detail that revealed Beth’s fascination with it all.

It was not until much later that the demon himself showed up in the drawings, fitting so naturally into his work environment that it did not feel like a change in subject matter, his attention always absolutely focused on the task in front of him.

Her drawing materials began to become more expensive and varied, starting to include rich inks, watercolours, and different types of paint. She never seemed to settle on a favourite medium, continuing to switch around based on the subject and what effects she wanted to emphasize.

The last filled page was an incomplete sketch of Caleb working on a complex enchantment, the outlines of a glowing magic circle seeming to hover in the air around him that Fey could not wait to see in colour.

Fey certainly had no background knowledge in visual art to be able to critique composition and technique, but she knew what she liked. Beth’s drawings managed to convey the life and energy behind each scene – and very obviously gave away her feelings. “I really like them,” was all she said, handing the sketchbook back to Beth.

“Thank you,” Beth said with a shy smile. “Would you mind if I drew you and your pets some time?”

“Go ahead,” Fey said with a smile, not concerned that Beth would paint her in an unflattering light. (Such literal use of figures of speech.) “Sirena and Blade wouldn’t mind, either. I’d ask Mimi and Leandriel for permission.”

“Oh, I’d definitely ask first!” Beth hurried to assure her. Fey could guess that it had taken the sun elf quite a while to work up the nerve to ask a certain demon if she could capture his likeness in her art.

Standing up, they continued forward until they reached a door at the end of the hallway marked with the glowing lines of an active enchantment.

Beth placed her hand over the central marking of the circular design, causing it to dim “Caleb, Fey’s here to see you.”

“I’ll be out in a minute,” came Caleb’s voice through the door.

Beth lowered her arm while they waited. “The silence spell is keyed to allow sound through when I touch it. Caleb will probably get around to modifying it so other guild members can get his attention,” she explained.

Fey smiled. “I don’t think he will.” At Beth’s disconcerted look, she clarified. “You’re special.”

Beth blushed hard enough that it was visible through the golden tan of her sun elf skin. “We’re just friends.”

“A real friend is something special enough, but I think it’s more.” To Fey, the way Caleb trusted and relied on Beth to run the day-to-day management of the workshop, the way he granted her free access to even his innermost retreat where he went for silence and privacy, and especially the way he always looked at her and responded to her voice even while lost in an interesting project, they all spoke volumes about what she meant to him.

Beth looked like she was trying not to believe Fey’s words. “He never… He hasn’t…”

“He won’t, either, not unless you tell him exactly what you want.” (Look at Fey, confidently dispensing unsolicited romantic advice as if she hasn’t recently screwed up her own love life so badly it had taken a third party and a grovelling apology to unscrew it. *Unqualified*)

Almost exactly one minute after Caleb had promised to come out, he opened the door. Immediately noticing Beth’s flushed skin, he asked, “Do you have a fever?”

Fey laughed because she also tended to mistake people’s emotional reactions for physical ailments. “We were just talking about something Beth would really rather you didn’t ask about.”

Glancing at Beth’s expression for confirmation, he said, “Okay,” giving no indication that he was bothered by being left out of the conversation. Instead, he raised an eyebrow at Fey, silently asking why she had come.

Fey pulled Amethyst off her shoulder and dropped her into Caleb’s palm. “I need Amethyst to be able to use Whip at full strength without having to anchor herself to something heavy.”

Caleb listened intently while Fey explained the technical details of the skill. When she moved on to her own theories about how the issue of Amethyst’s insufficient mass could be solved, he ignored her in favour of examining the slime in detail.

He slid Amethyst into one of the voluminous pockets of his leather apron. “Three days.”

Amethyst squeaked, the sound seeming to come from much farther away than the outside dimensions of the pocket would suggest.

Fey frowned. “Do you have to keep her the whole time? I want to start training.”

Caleb did not bother to answer the question, finding it fairly obvious that he would not have confiscated the slime if he did not need it to design and build the equipment. He went downstairs to start collecting components, leaving Fey and Beth to follow in his wake.

“Right. Hey, Beth, would you mind feeding Amethyst once in a while? I mean, she’d probably be fine with not eating for three days, but I haven’t tested it.”

“No problem! What does she eat?”

“About that…” Fey pulled out a pouch full of colourful, slightly squishy spheres.

Beth pinched one between her fingers curiously. “Are these some kind of special pet food?”

“You could say that…”

Fey could see the exact moment Beth recognized the slime bubbles for what they were.

“Amethyst eats other…”

“Slimes, yes,” Fey finished for her.

A pause. “I’ll make sure she gets them,” Beth finally said, deciding not to comment on the cannibalism.

“Thanks, Beth,” Fey said, grateful for both the favour and the forbearance.