Once more reconvened at the rock Anastacia had claimed as her base in the grove, the necromancer and her two spriggan friends had begun to plot the next step in their attempts to familiarize Hasta and Sorbus. Resting her head on Xamiliere’s lap, Anastacia recalled the events of the evening and the three ruminated on how they would affect their plans.

“But did you get anything out of him in regards to his tastes?” Asked Xamiliere, focusing on the matter which she found the most important and amusing.

“Like I said, he’s not exactly open about anything. I spent half the time there at swordpoint, not having another butts versus boobs argument.” The necromancer snarked.

“I’m pretty much sword-proof! So that’s not a problem.” Added sorbus helpfully. Not necessarily understanding what the two were talking about but pointing out something that Anastacia realized was probably going to come into play in the early days. She could foresee a situation where Sorbus forgot to properly announce themselves and would end up stabbed. Whether that was a healthy thing to have in a relationship or not, was beyond her expertise – or lack thereof.

“I honestly don’t think it’s that important what Sorbus looks like, he just needs someone to give him a hand and… ground him, I guess. He kind of seems like he’s stuck in his past and needs to get snapped back from time to time. No idea how anyone should go about helping him but leaving him alone is probably the worst thing we could do now.” Anastacia gave her opinion. “He can handle the day to day most of the time and probably would just get annoyed if he got treated like he couldn’t. So, just kind of hanging around and helping when its needed is all.”

Xamiliere nodded. “Sure, sure, I agree – but come on now.” She smiled and put a hand on Sorbus’ head. “Surely Sorbus wants to be as visually appealing to this guy as they possibly can, right? I’m sure it’d help him as well!”

“Yes! I want to look good when we meet!” The fox agreed, blindly believing that it would help since Xamiliere said so.

“Well, you two can do whatever you want with that then. All I can say that my womanly wiles had no effect on him, but I didn’t even try so it doesn’t count.” Anastacia shrugged. If she could have helped, she would have, but entrusting the matter of Sorbus’ new body to the only expert in the world that particular subject had was probably the right move anyway.

With a kind smile that obviously hid plenty of internal laughter, Xamiliere caressed the necromancer’s cheek. “Anna, with all the love in the world, you don’t have womanly wiles. You have the wiles of a raccoon, and there’s no shame in it. They seem to work on plenty of folks.” As she lovingly stared down at the necromancer’s face, she noticed the small red mark on the necromancer’s cheek and an almost panicked worry filled her. “What’s this?!”

Anastacia rubbed the barely sore bruise which she had already forgotten about. “Oh… I guess he managed to almost get a swing in. Did it leave a mark?”

“He hit you?! That’s it! I’m coming along next time, and I’m going to punch him back.” The worried spriggan immediately declared and started to inspect the mark more closely, bringing her face far too close to the necromancer’s.

A sudden flash of red washed over Anastacia’s pale face and she pushed Xamiliere’s face away. “No, you’re not, and no, you’re not. Your priority is staying here and uncursing your body, so you’re not going anywhere. It was my fault for getting careless – besides, if you punch him, he might just crumble into dust at this point.”

“It’s my fault that you went there, I’m not going to have this asshole so much as touch you!” The spriggan argued, overtaken by guilt and worry.

“Like I said, it was my fault for getting careless. I can literally explode him with my mind, pretty sure I’m not in any actual danger. Not to mention that we’re both adventurers, this sort of thing happens every now and then, and you know that.” Anastacia pointed out that danger was a part of their particular way of life, and getting slightly tapped on the cheek was the least of their worries when they rarely left the city without the express purpose to head into mortal danger of some sort.

Xamiliere didn’t have a rebuttal ready, so instead of saying anything she gently squeezed the necromancer’s cheeks. On top of what was in her eyes their brief lifespan, the fragility of normal mortals had always been somewhat of a worry to her, but never as much as with the necromancer. Having seen and heard Anastacia deal with increasingly ridiculous beings in the blink of an eye they had known each other, had lulled her into what she considered a ‘false’ sense of security because of the apparent indestructibility of Anastacia. Yet, all of her might made the necromancer no less fragile than any other mortal, and the thought alone terrified the spriggan. Part of her would have wanted to keep Anastacia locked away in safety, but she was neither cruel nor insane enough to even entertain that thought.

“But if you two are going to start figuring out the whole body-thing, I wouldn’t mind taking a nap, if I’m not needed. I’ve been up to all sorts of stuff and there’s no coffee in this place, so I don’t know how long I have before I just crash.” Anastacia said and yawned. Her first day in the grove had been a busy one, and it likely wasn’t going to get any less busy anytime soon, so she would rather at least be rested for whatever mess there would inevitably be coming their way.

“It’s so very weird how people just choose to spend such a large chunk of their time doing nothing but laying down, when they only have so little of it.” Sorbus commented, without much context for sleeping. Spriggans rested regularly as well, typically to mend minor damage to their body or simply to think, and would often go dormant for longer periods of time simply because there was no need for them to be awake. However, all of this came with the fact that they were by nature timeless beings, and their works took at the very least months to progress in most cases.

“It’s not that we choose to do it, it’s that we have to. I agree that it’s a waste of time but sometimes it really hits the spot, and lack of sleep really messes us up royally – would probably kill us faster than not eating too. You should keep that in mind if you’re going to look after Hasta.” Anastacia advised the fox and yawned again.

Despite the necromancer insisting otherwise, Xamiliere eventually had to move her to the side if Sorbus and her were to begin shaping a new body. It took approximately thirty seconds for Anastacia to doze off once she was settled on the rock, even without anything to use as a pillow or cover. After making sure the necromancer at least seemed comfortable, Xamiliere placed her hand on top of Sorbus’ head and allowed the green energy within both of them to freely flow in both directions. The prevalence of speech as the main communication method among the spriggans may have come across as odd when there was no obvious need for it, but in the times predating even the first necromancers, they spent much more time conversing with the more common creatures and beings of the time, learning a whole host of languages in the process out of necessity. Most of them, both languages and creatures, were extinct outside of the grove now, but still occasionally used by some spriggans who hadn’t moved on to more ‘recent’ dialects – a lot of which were still thousands of years old. Yet, by allowing the spirits within themselves to mingle with one another, it was possible to communicate thoughts and concepts far too complicated and exact for speech, emotions ranging across the entire spectrum and ones that were impossible to give definitions to, complex arrangements of reasons, beliefs and memories accumulated over countless mortal lifespans. It was by no means instantaneous, in fact rough approximations of what was being communicated could have possibly been said faster out loud, should that have been sufficient – but the difference was the same as describing what a library was in two to three sentences, and spending an hour to convey the entire contents held by the largest literary collections there were. Where this method ran into its limit was in the personalities of the nature spirits. Such an intense connection between two left little secrets guarded in either of the communing spirits, and that required trust almost no spriggan had for one another. Even friendships in the sense the word had in the outside world were a rarity between them, and most closer relationships could be easily boiled down to very clear benefits in the eternal competition the spirits were locked in. Xamiliere, having removed herself from the grove and everything it stood for, had much less qualms over using the method with someone like Sorbus or Ulmus, but for others it was the absolute last resort.

Hours quickly passed as Xamiliere handed over her knowledge on how to imitate a body as well as some suggestions she had for Sorbus to make the shape their own – including what they had agreed on as they were bleeding to death earlier. Convinced that they now knew what to do, Sorbus hopped off the rock and laid down on the grass to better tap into the powers emanating from the soil below the grove. Just like before, the small fox-like body grew into a denser wooden statue as the green energy in it withdrew deeper inside to fuel and direct the growth of the new body. Splitting open the old husk, new branches began reaching up, this time in a far more organized and purposeful manner than before. Their almost flawless symmetry made the whole ordeal seem unnatural, as it was not the way trees were meant to grow. Though their bodies had a defined shape, there was a sense of freedom and wildness in the way each vine and branch was arranged in the bodies of the grove’s spriggans, or rather, hadn’t been arranged in places where it didn’t matter. In contrast, Xamiliere’s, and now Sorbus’ bodies were exact, clearly build for appearances more in line with features the mortal world appreciated in things – and the features Xamiliere herself had grown to appreciate during her life among the mortals.

In the end, what emerged from Sorbus’ old body was a human shape much resembling the one it had been copied from. Though noticeably taller than Xamiliere, Sorbus had made their new body somewhat more bottom heavy but still slender, ridding it of most of the female features Xamiliere had chosen for herself. The tangled mess of both branches and vines, intended as faux hair and heavily inspired by the necromancer’s hairdo, flowed a bit past their shoulders and had a few clusters of bright orange berries dangling from it. The carefully sculpted face, which was somewhere between handsome and beautiful, seemed to be almost permanently fixed in a quizzical smirk until Sorbus learned to portray other emotions with it. “What do you think?” They asked and took their first few steps, clearly struggling with the difference in height between the small fox, or even the previous human shape and the new one.

“Turn around for a bit.” Xamiliere said and keenly evaluated what she definitely considered just as much her own creation as Sorbus’.

Still marveling at the convenience of hands, especially the new ones which far surpassed even the previous ones, Sorbus did as they were asked to.

“Yes… This will work nicely.” Xamiliere muttered approvingly. “The poor sod won’t know what hit him.”

“You think so?!” Responded the fox as they stretched their new joints to their limits, accompanied by loud crunches as parts of the freshly-grown body settled in their place. “This is so much better than the last one I made. You’ve worked hard coming up with all of this.”

Despite what was clearly a success on her part of the plan, Xamiliere remained joyless as she barely paid attention to her friend. Now that the temporary distraction was out of the way, her thoughts hard returned to the previous problem. Sorbus noticed her somber expression and stopped what they were doing to address it. “Did I mess up something? What’s wrong?” They inquired and sat down on the edge of the rock, awkwardly close to the other spriggan.

Xamiliere wondered if there was a reason to share her worries with Sorbus, but realized that perhaps they were just the one to talk about it with, as they themselves seemed to be careening towards the same issue. “No, it’s just that… You know that this guy you’re going through all this stuff for is mortal, right?”

“Yes?” Sorbus answered, confused by the question.

“That means that they are going to die, and can do so unexpectedly. Disease, accidents, some asshole punching them… there’s infinite ways a mortal life can just end all of a sudden. Even if they live a full life, it’s going to feel like a blink of an eye to you.” Xamiliere explained her woes. “Does that not bother you at all?”

Sorbus thought about the issue for a moment. “It does now!” They realized in the end.

“Are we just stupid for allowing ourselves so be swept into something that has no other outcomes than us getting hurt in the end? Are we going to be living in constant fear because of it? Will we be able to handle it when it inevitably happens?” Xamiliere worried and glanced at the necromancer, who was peacefully sleeping in a position that had absolutely no chance of being comfortable. Being impressionable as always, Sorbus was immediately taken over by her misgivings and both of them ended up with their heads hanging low, paralyzed by their situation. While it wasn’t enough to make them hesitate, thinking about it caused anxiety they had been free from before.

“Are you two pondering the matters of mortality over here?” A sudden question was posed from atop one of the nearby roots, where Acacia once more stood with a smug grin glowing on their face. “Interesting look, Sorbus, it suits you. I’m sure he’ll be captivated by it.”

The green energy flowing in Sorbus’ body immediately retreated deeper within them. A reaction they used to remain unnoticed in their fox shape whenever they got startled. “You… you know?! How long have you been there?!”

“I’ve always been here. Since what’s going on with you and that fellow is one of the very few interesting things here these days, obviously I know. Fret not though, I’m good at keeping secrets – and I think it’s adorable.” Acacia giggled and made themselves comfortable in the same spot they had been in during the meeting, again chewing into the barely healed bark with their thorns.

“What do you want, cat?” Xamiliere asked in a sour tone.

“You two seemed like you could use a bit of guidance, twisting your minds into an unfortunate knot like that. I figured I’d come to give you some while I pick up the necromancer for a bit of a chat.” The cat explained in their usual, wholly insincere way.

Not hiding her disbelief, Xamiliere scoffed at the idea and let out a dry, spiteful laugh in response.

“What, you two little sprigs actually think you invented fucking mortals or something? Come on now… Assuming you even get around doing that at some point.” Acacia laughed mockingly. “But in regards of your troubles. This whole ‘woe is us, for we are immortal, doomed to outlive the love of our lives’-thing is stuff of fools. Sounds like a nifty little personal tragedy on surface but that’s not how it turns out.”

Both Xamiliere and Sorbus suddenly perked up, hearing such an opposite opinion to theirs gave both a spark of hope.

“There isn’t really much you can do about the worrisome tendency of mortals that is dying, you will worry about it and it’ll be horrible when it happens. Not to mention the dumb thing about love, where your little mortal’s main worry will be how you’ll manage after they’re gone, their own end is just an afterthought compared to that. So, yeah, the gods did a shoddy job as usual when they made people. So, love between them and any of the immortal beings is tragic, right?” Acacia began their lecture, sounding dismissive about the whole thing, but for a briefest of moments, the eternal grin burning on their face flickered before returning twice as bright. “Yet, I would have it that it’s the most fortunate kind.

“Love between two mortals is a nifty, quick thing. A brief flower that blooms for a season but dies along with the lovers. Even if one life gets cut short, the other one will remain only a while longer. When both are gone, that’s the end for all of it. You could argue that it lives on in their offspring but I’d say that those are not a certainty and most certainly do not require love, so as far as I can tell, the two are separate.

“Then there is love between immortals, like us. At best, an eternal oak tree that stands until something snuffs out the entire world. Seasons come and go, leaves fall and grow back, the tree becomes tall and formidable with time. Sounds wonderful, doesn’t it? I’m sure it is, if such a thing has ever happened. Immortality doesn’t mean there is no change, and the fact is that most trees have an end to their life. The longer it stands, the more its surroundings change, it might grow rotten from the inside, it might fall over in a storm, such is love between two immortals as well – but would I call it fortunate? No, immortality allows for infinite chances for love, it’s simply a matter of time.

“And then there’s your situation. You think your love has the brevity of mortal life and then nothing but immortal misery afterwards. When the time comes, it will indeed be the most hopeless moment of your eternity and will last for a long time, there’s no denying that. You will curse your everlasting spirit, seek vengeance, beg for death… until you come to realize something. You have been given a rare and precious gift of being able to immortalize one of the frail things we call mortals, not in body but in your memories. Where books and statues decay, stories are forgotten and change, lineages die, your memory of the one you love will remain. You will be the one to remember the mortal in the most beautiful depiction of them there can ever be – as you saw them. Your love will not rot or change over time, as it and your memory of them will be timeless, just the same as you… Or so I hear… None of these are more or less meaningful than the other, or even exclude one another, but that is what I’d call the most fortunate kind of love...”

The longwinded explanation actually did bring some ease to the other two spriggans, even if it came from such a questionable source. It wouldn’t make their worries disappear, but hearing such a view on the matter at least opposed their own and gave room for internal debate on a later date.

“Now that you two are sufficiently baffled, I would like to take the necromancer with me for a brief chat, between just the two of us.” Acacia then stated. “Nothing you need to worry about, I simply have some questions and wisdom to impart.”

Xamiliere took a look at Anastacia, who still seemed to be resting, although less peacefully than before. Her expression had turned to almost pained and droplets of sweat had appeared on her forehead. “She’s asleep, can this wait?”

“It can, but it’s quite an unpleasant nightmare she’s having. I doubt she would mind being woken up.” The cat smirked.

Anastacia’s dream had actually been very interesting and pleasant in the beginning. Obviously influenced by the familiar flowery scent she was enveloped in and the dream version of her acted with much more courage than she ever could. Perhaps on the verge of discovering something about herself, Anastacia was interrupted by a sudden flood of inexplicable, paralyzing fear that instantly erased everything nice and comfortable her mind had conjured during the rest. Plunged into a place of not quite darkness, but lack of light, above her was an endless void with no stars or sun, and below her the same rock she had fallen asleep on. Despite lacking a source of light, she could see her surroundings almost as well as on a slightly foggy day. The vast forest surrounding the mother grove was gone, but the great tree itself was still there, though a mere sapling in comparison to its real size. Beside the tree loomed an indescribable beast of thorns, the presence of which was the origin of her uncontrollable fear. Lacking a recognizable shape, the only things that distinguished it as a living being were the seven pairs of glowing, cat-like eyes that floated around it in a haphazard formation, all of them burning brightly but casing no light to their surroundings and all of them fixated on the necromancer. Impaled on the thorns of its body, constantly being shred and torn apart, were dozens of beings Anastacia didn’t recognize. Mighty beasts with horns of metal and hides of stone, winged beings clad in brilliant pearlescent armor, vile creatures whose wounds bled molten lava and everything in between, intentionally posed to be proudly displayed. As Xamiliere gently nudged her, the necromancer woke up kicking and screaming in terror. Frantically looking around and finally realizing she had been asleep, her eyes briefly locked with Acacia’s knowing grin and a shiver ran down her spine.

“It’s alright, it was just a nightmare.” Xamiliere said calmly and pulled herself up to the necromancer to hug her.

As she calmed down, Anastacia remembered the first part of her dream and turned bright red. Her initial instinct was to escape the situation, but after waking up from such a nightmare, being embraced was exactly what she needed. “So, how did it go with Sorbus?” She finally asked after getting her bearings once more and convincing Xamiliere she didn’t need to be held anymore.

“You tell me.” Xamiliere said and gestured towards the other spriggan.

As soon as her eyes met what used to be the little fox, the red on her face returned. She had not expected such a drastic change and struggled to find anything to say. “That’s… yeah…” She stammered; a bit more stricken by their look than she cared to admit. Several times she tried to tear her gaze away to properly comment on it, but miserably failed on every single attempt.

“Want some berries?” Sorbus asked, picked a cluster of the bright orange fruit off their hair and offered it to the necromancer, who accepted it without even really registering the question in her head.

Though her focus was still in tatters, hearing Sorbus’ voice come out of the new body quickly dismantled the spell Anastacia had been stricken with. Finally with some brain activity being spared for less base functions, it was easy for her to recognize the fox from the somewhat vacant stare still present in their eyes. All of this helped to create at least some kind of mental defenses to whatever had taken ahold of her momentarily.

Xamiliere had no trouble reading Anastacia’s reaction, which on one hand made her proud of her handiwork, but on the other deeply concerned that her own creation would become a hinderance to her own efforts. Had Sorbus not been such a prime example of a one-track mind and wholly focused on Hasta, she would have considered taking back her gifts just to be safe. “Anna, focus!” She exclaimed and clapped her hands together when the necromancer was clearly trying to say some thing but kept getting distracted as her gaze veered back towards Sorbus.

“Right! Looks good!” Anastacia commented and forcibly turned her head away.

Xamiliere frowned. “That’s all it takes with you, huh? How come I never got this reaction out of you?” She asked, mostly as a joke, but one that hid more than a bit of genuine jealousy.

“Yes! How come?!” Acacia joined in on the inquiry from atop their perch, likely for no other reason than to make the situation even more awkward for their own enjoyment.

Feeling cornered for multiple reasons, Anastacia could do nothing but nervously avoid Xamiliere’s stare and eat a couple of the berries she was holding in her hand, the ones she barely remembered getting, just to somehow occupy herself and not just quietly stare into the distance. However, as soon as she bit into them, a horribly bitter, astringent taste filled her mouth and she spat them out.

“I don’t think they’re edible.” Sorbus pointed out.

Gagging and trying to scrape the taste off her tongue, Anastacia barely got a question out. “Then why would you give them to me?!”

The long silence following the question was only broken up by occasional snickering from Acacia’s direction until Sorbus finally figured out an answer that failed to explain anything. “Well, I didn’t need them and you didn’t have any.”