The Elixir

~Gala

Derald holds out his arm. "Shall we?"

Vieva curls her fingers around his elbow. "Let's do this."

The two of them cut across the street, which has come to a stillstop from the heavy traffic. The two of them nimbly edge their way across the street, still hand in hand. They step onto the pavement and Derald has to fight the urge to gape up at the Inventory. It's a magnificent structure, it's only rival in his mind being the Ruxnorth Academy Castle. Before they can merge into the line, Vieva drags Derald to the corner.

"What are you doing?" he hisses, looking around her to the crowd gathering. At this rate, they'll only get in when the night ends.

Vieva frantically rummages through her small clutch. "I forgot something. I can't go in without it."

"Is it more important than the mission?"

She slants him a searing glare. "Do you want this to work or not?"

Derald slumps. Five minutes into this charade and he's already exhausted.

"Ah ha!" Vieva retrieves two small vials and pops their lids off, letting the contents slowly drip out. The heady, heavy scent of osmanthus and neroli fill his nostrils.

"Seriously?" he explodes. "You're putting on perfume?"

Vieva barely glances at him. "It's important for the ruse, Derald. Not that you'd understand."

She mixes the oils in her hand, and dabs it on her pale, swanlike neck.

"Appearance is everything at these sorts of things, Pellefard. If I don't appear looking absolutely perfect, then someone will notice, and I'll be in trouble. So will you. It will jeopardize the entire mission. Got it? Now smell my neck, will you?"

Derald is taken aback at the sudden change of topic. He reels backward. "Excuse me?"

Vieva rolls her eyes and groans. "Man up, for Founder's sake! I need you to make sure it's potent enough, since I can't smell it myself."

Derald shuffles forward, not really sure why he's agreeing to it. Vieva Bestel may be a prick but she's also the most beautiful annoying girl he's ever met. Sweat collects and beads in his palms as he leans in to take a whiff of her neck.

Derald hastily takes a large step back.

"It's good. We're good to go." He says gruffly, the cold air rushing back in. Vieva looks at him, pale brows furrowed lightly, before shaking her head and taking his arm once more.

"I'll never understand you, Pellefard."

Derald swallows nervously.

"Good."

✡✡✡

The Inventory looks unrecognizable. Derald's father's occupation requires him to visit the Inventory occasionally, and he'd tagged along a few times. Previously, it had just been a large, airy room with gunmetal gray walls and a glass, diamond-pane ceiling. Now, it had been transformed into a luxurious and eloquent space.

Vieva hardly looks surprised, almost bored even. She must attend these things a lot.

"Shut your mouth!" She whispers harshly in his ear. "You're attracting attention. You have to look like to belong."

"That's the thing: I don't belong!"

"Well, if we want this plan to work, you're going to have to step up your act. Otherwise, everyone here is going to make conclusions about why you're here. And trust me, we don't want that."