TW: SWEARING, ALCOHOL, INSECURITIES
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Usually, when I trained I donned a typical Elytrain uniform. Having a training uniform was almost as essential as breathing for Elytrians. Breeches (usually white), a sleeved undershirt made of some kind of light fabric with an elastic-y texture (also usually white) and then your jacket to protect you from your training sword (sometimes blue like a military uniform). I don't own a proper uniform, and I probably never will, I've only got Amélie's hand-me-downs. They weren't of poor quality, but uniforms tend to be less breathable the more you wear them.
But today, I'd traded my uniform for a singlet and shorts today to try and beat the cataclysmic Aliferian heat. All the tall windows filled with little square panes were wide open in the training room . My sweaty eyes were fixed on the tall coffered ceiling as I continued to bench weights.
My hands were far too blistered for me to be training with a sword, so this would have to do for now. Sweat from my palms had soaked through my wraps and was making it hard to hold the two metal dumbells I had grabbed from the rack the corner of the room.
Phil and Amélie had disappeared without a trace, not that I minded. I'd gone into the empty kitchen for breakfast, against Father's word, and then came straight here. Though, I mainly went to the kitchen to make a hangover cure.
Not remembering what happened last night was the worst thing about today. The most I remember was sitting upstairs in the Pube feeling miserable, and then after that were just little glimpses. I must have passed out and someone must have found me and then told Wil, I don't know how else I would've been brought home.
Thanks to Tubbo's miracle hangover cure shit, I managed to drag myself into training. I heave a sigh and set the dumbbells down before sitting up again. I stretch my wings and run my fingers through my feathers as my mind wanders.
The parts of my memory that detailed a rooftop felt like a fever dream. I am not sure if it actually happened. Holy shit what if it did...? I felt my cheeks redden.
All I could remember was warmth, which made no sense since it was raining. The part that I couldn't shake was blue eyes. Tommy's blue eyes. I slap my cheeks trying to being myself back. I'm a fool. If what I remember actually happened then I've made myself look like a fool, in front of Tommy of all people. He could tear me apart for this, tell the others how weak I am, how broken I must have looked.
I should not have left the house. I flop back down onto the bench press, letting my wings spread out on either side of me. Working on the water system issue was more important than trying to drown my embarrassment in exercise, but that is the last thing I want to do. I loll my head to one side and frown as I look through the open window.
The sun had crisped out any moisture that could have been left behind by last night's rain. Like a cloth in the sun, the trees seemed stiff and their bark was cracking, a sign that they were trying to redirect too much moisture to their roots. The lagoon will be a little fuller, I think and become too aware of how stinky I feel.
Yeah, a swim sounds good.
I peel myself off the bench and wipe my face with an already-damp sweat towel. I leave it on the floor with the dumbells resolving to clean up after myself later. My body detours to the kitchen for some water first, but before I can turn the corner, I'm stopped by the one phantom I hoped I wouldn't see today.
"Aster," I don't look at Wilbur's face, knowing all too well the vexed and aggravated look that would be etched there. Feigning ignorance is my half-arsed attempt to escape.
"What's up?" I ask reluctantly stopping my stride.
"Oh no, you're not getting off that easily," I let my shoulders sag and take a breath, Wilbur floats just off the floor with his arms crossed across his chest. He moves down the hallway towards me.
"Wilbur-"
"You better explain to me why I found you drunker than a skunk, soaking wet and wrapped up in towels on one of the beds in the pube whilst Tommy, Ranboo and Tubbo fretted over what the fuck they were going to do with you."
I cringe and wince at his words. "Is that really what happened?"
"You are a moron."
"Thanks," I try to head into the kitchen but Wilbur grabs my arm and stops me.
"You better not be planning on going in there."
I look into the kitchen. Light filters through the small square windows in the rectangular kitchen, illuminating the spaces where the scullery phantoms are working. The glass was tinted, rendering the light slightly yellow, to protect them from the sun. The white benchtops were busy and the soft green cupboard doors swung open and shut as phantoms worked. The pots and pans clink as they dangle from the pot rack over the island bench.
"I'm hungry," I protest pulling out of his grip.
"You're also incredibly sweaty and not allowed into the kitchen," there's a warning in his voice. I frown not understanding it at first, but then I notice our head chef watching me out of the corner of her eye. I groan.
"Don't tell me-"
"That everybody knows the rules except you? Yeah, we do."
I sigh wishing that the kitchen was empty like it was when I woke up this morning. The cooks must be making lunch for everybody in the estate now. I look up at Wilbur and see an unenthusiastic and begrudging look. He leans down to my ear.
"Go down to Niki, I'll meet you there with food," a smirk grows on my face as he pulls away. He looked away stubbornly, somewhat unhappy about letting me win this one. He always was a bit of a stickler for Father's rules.
"Thank you," I mutter to his prickly scowl.
I smile shaking my head as I head to my room to get a change of clothes. Wilbur had always been this way. Prickly and stubborn, but eventually yielding. He's worked for Phil since I was a child.
I met him one day when Juliana, Phil and Amélie had flown off to do something in town. They dumped the responsibility of looking after me on Wilbur. I think he was about sixteen at the time.
"I can't believe I have to babysit a bratty kid," he grumbled as the door clicked shut.
"I can't believe I'm stuck with a boring bookworm," I shot back. He scoffed at my childish insolence.
"Books aren't boring."
"They're my father's books," it didn't take a genius to know that Father didn't read any kind of story that would be entertaining to either of us. The parlour was particularly muggy that day, the windows were swinging in the lazy gusts of air from outside. It had rained the night before and everything smelt of petrichor.
"Good point," Wilbur relented and then drifted away from the living room and into the hallway.
"Where are you going?" I called, chasing after him. My brace squeaked with every thud of my feet on the hardwood floors.
"Back to work," he called back. I chased him all the way to Father's study where he was reorganising books. Father's study hasn't changed one bit since then. The library kept those same books and still looked just as full even though Father's collection had slowly grown over the years. The desk is the same, as is the intricate red and gold rug on the floor and the brown leather chair, only now both are more worn-down. The globe still sits in the corner on a round table by the window and the painting still watches me as I rifle through things I'm not supposed to. I guess I haven't changed much either.
"What are you doing?" I asked cheekily and strode in like I owned the place towards Wilbur.
"Reshelving books," he said irritatedly in a voice that was softer and more youthful than what I know these days. I picked up the top book on the stack he had left on the floor. It was a history book about the island. Wilbur snatched it off me, glaring down at me from where he was hovering. Back then, he was like a giant. He still sort of is, but I'm hardly as short as I was.
"Be careful!" He snapped and turned back to the shelves. I put my hands on my hips. "You're too dumb to even know what it says, why do you care?"
"I do know!" I said back and picked up the next book on the stack to read the title aloud. "The Political Disputes of Modern Aliferian Conflicts."
Wilbur spun around in disbelief. "How can you read that? You're like... four!"
"I'm eight! And Mrs Stewart taught me."
Mrs Steward was my governess and the only person who ever paid attention to me as a child. Probably because she was paid to do so. She was tougher than rubber and more painful than the sound of nails on a chalkboard.
"How does that go for you?" Wilbur asked knowing full well who she was.
"I'd rather jump off a balcony than listen to what she says all day."
Wilbur laughed. I'd never heard him laugh before. I still remember how strange it was to see him, the grumbling, prickly phantom who wanted nothing to do with anybody else, laughing. "I've only met her once. I felt the same way."
"Why is Father reading all of these history books?" I asked. Wilbur shrugged.
"It's not my business."
"You're not even a little curious?"
"He likes history. Not a big deal, feathers." I hummed disapprovingly at his nickname and ducked off starting to feel bored by his dismissivity.
"W-where are you going?" It seemed that Wilbur had only just remembered that he was supposed to be looking after me. I pulled myself onto Father's tall leather chair and looked at the headlines of the papers that were stacked neatly on the side. I wanted to know why Father found history interesting.
"What the fuck are you doing?" Wilbur dashed to the side of the desk watching me pull apart the carefully organised pile.
"Research."
"You can't do that! I'll get fired!"
"No, you won't," I felt exasperated by Wilbur, unable to understand why he couldn't see I was intelligent. "Because we won't be caught."
Wilbur was about to say something when I spotted the headline of a newspaper article that Father had left on the other side of his desk.
"Cornucopia doesn't have enough water?" I frowned and pulled the paper closer to me. I wasn't good enough at reading to be able to understand the small print, but I distinctly remember the big fat title.
Cornucopian water shortage devastates trade routes.
"What?" Wilbur peered over my shoulder.
"What's a 'confluence'" I asked Wilbur managing to make out a few sentences with squinted eyes.
"Phil goes to confluences all the time," something in Wilbur's tone was questioning, like he couldn't understand how I didn't know what the fuck a 'confluence' was.
"So they're meetings?" I asked trying to connect the dots.
"Same thing."
"Amélie is going to a meeting with Mother and Father."
Wilbur eyed me and make a noise that sounded like a combination of a chuckle and a scoff. "You're clearly smarter than she is, why aren't you going?"
I rolled my eyes. Wilbur clearly didn't understand it at the time since he is a phantom, but as a child, I just thought he was stupid.
"Because Amélie is pretty, obviously, when you're pretty you get everything," I grumbled and put the papers back carefully, like how I used to shift the cookie jar back onto the shelf so that the cooks wouldn't know I had snuck a few into my pockets.
"Society sucks," Wilbur had said. Even as a kid, I knew I agreed with him.
・꧁꧂・
Water from the lagoon dripped onto the tartan picnic blanket that Wilbur had snagged from the kitchen. The phantom sat, clothed from head to toe to avoid the sun's rays, in the shade of one of the fat trees that held the estate off the ground. Wilbur, Niki and I had been snacking on pastries, strawberries, sandwiches and juice that nobody finished during breakfast this morning. Phil and Amélie must have lost their appetites after last night's dinner.
Niki chews thoughtfully on a strawberry whilst I lay down to air-dry in the warm sunlight.
"How are you feeling after last night?" she asks me. I purse my lips not really wanting to thing about it. Every time I did, my mind drifted to a kind look on Tommy's face that I'm more than sure I've imagined.
"Hungover and tired, but I'm not unwell," I reply trying to keep my head in the game. Somewhere in the treetops, birds whistle and chirp as a hot, dry wind blows. I run my toes over the surface of the lagoon, watching the ripples and feeling the dappled sun on my wings to try and steady my mind.
"Will you come to the Pube tonight?" Niki sounds hopeful, but I shake my head. I do not want to face Tommy.
"I shouldn't, Father's watching me more closely now," I say instead. Niki frowns and swirls her tail under the water, I watch her perfect scales sparkle like fine glitter from the corner of my eye.
"That's something I never thought I'd hear you say," I sit up at the sound of Sneeg's brazen tone. He huffs as he awkwardly drags a chocolaty pastry out of the wickered picnic basket.
"When did you get here?" Wilbur asks from his shady spot, his broad-brimmed hat lifting just enough for me to get a glipse of his pale face. Sneeg gives up on the pastry and grabs a strawberry instead.
"Literally all of the phantoms are talking about how you tore open Phil last night," Sneeg grins standing up his strawberry, it's nearly as tall as he is. He shines the side of the fruit with a light blue hand.
I groan and flop back onto the rug keeping my feet in the cool lagoon. "Great. Now even the staff are going to stare at me like I've got two heads."
The estate staff have never cared for my affliction, if they did they were masters at hiding their opinions. They've never so much as glanced twice when I've entered the room or asked them to help me with something. A tap on my forehead tells me that Sneeg has landed.
"Open your mouth," he says. I glance up and notice the strawberry he's still holding before I comply to his strange request. He shoves the strawberry in my mouth and I bite down, enjoying the sweetness as it spreads over my tongue. "At least they won't be total asshats about it like the townies."
I nod in agreement and take the strawberry top out of my mouth. Tommy floats to mind again as I can't help but wonder what he thinks of me now. Does he think I'm weak? He'll probably call me a crybaby the next time I see him. Why did I have to get so drunk? Why can't I remember everything? I really hope last night didn't happen, and I didn't say what I think I may have said.
"Phil has been absent all day, it's probably safe for you to go out tonight," I look at Wilbur like he was an alien. Who is this phantom and what had he done with Wilbur?
"Yeah, come on Star, break the rules with us!" Sneeg eggs me on as he sits cross-legged on my forehead.
I sigh. "You guys aren't going to give up, are you?"
A unanimous "nope" answers my incredibly rhetorical question.
・꧁꧂・
Just because I'm at the Pube, doesn't mean I can't still avoid them. It just makes it so much more difficult.
I sit with Charlie at the bar half-listening to what he's talking about. I'd gotten to know Charlie pretty well since our unconventional first meeting. It had taken me a while to get used to him not being a solid being, but after a couple of sticky handshakes and slime-covered pints of beer I came around.
The knots that were in my stomach seemed to clench each time my eyes drifted to the table over Charlie's shoulder where Tommy, Tubbo and Ranboo had been sitting tonight. I can't help but feel bad for using Charlie as a distraction, but I'd rather not deal with the boys tonight. Each time they laughed or spoke softer than the people at the tables on either side of them I couldn't help but wonder if they were talking about me.
"Hey, are you alright?" Charlie stops mid-story and sets a hand on my shoulder. I shake out of my days. My eyes seemed to be drawn to the table like magnets. I couldn't remember what Charlie had been talking about.
I grin and try to cover my tracks. "I'm fine, just need another drink."
"Allow me," says a familiar raspy voice.
Beau slides me a fresh pint of beer. Shit. I put on my best smile taking in her calculating expression. Unlike Charlie, Beau can read people like books. Her black and white curls were hastily pulled into twin braids under her goggles and she was wearing her favourite kahki green overalls. Her black and white wings twitch as she watches me.
"Cheers," I chuckle drily and drink the beer. It tastes more bitter than usual.
"How are you going?" Beau takes the barstool next to me. My wings tense and I know she knows about last night.
I jump a little as Sneeg shouts from the other side of the bar. "CHARLIE! GET OVER HERE, WE'RE DOING SHOTS!"
Thanks, Sneeg. Charlie says a hasty goodbye before slipping into the crowd. I clutch my drink tighter wishing that I could turn invisible and leave. Note to self, don't let Wilbur, Niki or Sneeg talk me into anything ever again. Beau clears her throat, prompting me to answer her question.
"I'm fine," I say dismissively. I know Beau's too smart to buy it, but she had other plans for me.
"You mentioned you've been studying the drought," she redirects. I can't help but wonder where this is going to go, but I'm glad to be talking about something other than anything that hints at what happened last night.
"Care to enlighten us?" Beau gestures to the table where the boys are sitting. And just like that's she's caught me in her trap. Unable to say no, I stay as nonchalant as I possibly can whilst my rapid pulse causes my insides to implode.
"Sure."
"Great!" Beau loops her arm through mine and I barely have enough time to grab my beer before she drags me over to the table. Shit, this girl can be scary.
Tubbo's first to come over and smother me with attention. His silvery wings buzz and his antenna flick back and forth as he fusses over me. I keep my attention on Tubbo so I don't have to look at Tommy. But even though I'm not looking at him, he's all I can think of. What does he think of me?
"I was so worried! Are you feeling better now? Fucking hell-"
"Tubbo I'm fine, I swear I'm good," I cut off his rambling and Beau pulls out a chair for me next to her. I feel eyes burn hot stares into my skin as I sit down and I know it's Tommy. It takes everything in me not to squirm.
"Sorry you got dragged over," I look at Ranboo who hadn't moved from his seat. He smiles at me apologetically. "I was the one who asked."
Something in me is relieved that at least they didn't drag me over because I had avoided them. Although, I'm sure Beau could still sense my unease and she surely isn't blind to Tommy's staring. My eyes drift a little too far over the table and I glimpse Tommy's red and white feathers and bomber jacket. I force back the rush of heat that ran to the tips of my ears. If they ask I'm blaming it on the alcohol.
"Don't worry about it Ranboo," I sit down feeling glad that Ranboo wasn't the sort of person to have ulterior motives. "This could actually help my research."
We start talking... Well, I start explaining what I had been looking into and the others occasionally ask questions. How the problem may date back to the war, the phantom population fluctuations, and most importantly how they are thinking about asking Querencia for more water.
The whole time I avoid looking at Tommy as much as I can for fear that I'll turn redder than his feathers. I keep my eyes on my hands or fixed on my drink. But it doesn't stop the itching feeling that comes with the gaze he's locked on me. I feel it trace mostly over my face and wings, occasionally it slips to my hands when I try to talk with them.
What disturbed me most wasn't the staring, I'm used to that, it was the fact that I didn't hate it. Back home, if I felt someone staring for too long I'd shoot them a foul look to make them piss off. But when Tommy stared I wasn't entirely sure that I wanted him to stop. Nobody ever looked at my face, it's always my wings they see first. I couldn't remember a time somebody looked at my face for so long.
"So, the Aliferian council is genuinely running out of water," Tommy states grimly as I finish my explanation. I had barely glanced at him, but it took an absurd amount of effort to look away again. From his contemplative expression, I know that he's genuinely curious and cares about what I have to say. I don't know why I feel so touched.
"It's disappearing," I confirm repressing the flip that my heart does in my chest. "And we can't give any up because our Merlings depend on it."
"That's not what the Cornucopian government said," Ranboo mutters. In his eyes, I see conviction mixing with unease.
"It's not what Querencia said either," Beau adds, frowning at the swirling alcohol in her pint.
"We'll run dry if we're not careful with it," Tubbo says. He fiddles with his fingers looking slightly more stressed than the others. It made sense, he's got his bee farm to think about. It's not only his income but also Beau and Tommy's income.
Avians like Beau and Tommy train for combat just as Elytrians do. But they specialise in hand-to-hand and they don't have the same education that the academy offers. Even if they did try to make money out of their skills, they wouldn't get far in a poor country like Querencia. Nobody hires bodyguards or security, and, unless they're fighting in the field, they're not compensated for military service.
"The humans need so much water to function, it's a problem in town," Tommy grumbles into his glass.
If that was the state of Querencia, what was the state of Aranea? Not many Araneans come to the pube, it's not like they're able to buy a drink. Aranea doesn't have a government to make official announcements, but it doesn't take a politician to know the saline state of the country. They only had a few sources of fresh water, most of them were stone wells that had been dug during or before the war; before they lost everything. There are usually people who die from dehydration, but what if their wells dried up? Would there even be anything left to call a country?
"I had no idea it was that bad for everybody else," I say feeling grimmer than ever. We mull it all over for a moment. The boisterous nature of the Pube doesn't match our dampened spirits, the lanterns keep their warm glow and the drunkards keep swaying to the sound of joyful chatter.
"So, we can't trust our governors," Tubbo says what everybody's thinking.
"What's new?" I say.
"Have you got any idea of what's happening to the water?" Tommy asks me. I don't even need to look at him for the knots in my stomach to do flips. What the fuck is wrong with me?
"Ideas, but no real leads," I reply mentally kicking myself for being so out of control.
"I hope you work it out," Ranboo sounds sincere but there was something else in his tone. He's hiding something.
I frown. "Why do you say that?"
Ranboo's long pointed ears flick and the gold accents on his deep purple vest catch the light as he tenses. He bites his lip. "Cornucopia doesn't need the water, but they know they can use it to make a shit tonne of money."
Tommy slams his fist on the table angrily making everybody jump. Ranboo flinches the most. "There are people dying! They want to fucking make more money? More than the billions that they already have?"
"I don't like it either," Ranboo insists.
"There could be another war."
The words slip from my tongue before I can process them. Tommy freezes, his anger seems to dissipate into mist as he absorbs what I've just said. The Pube feels far away from the bubble we'd created at our measely table. My stomach started to flip for a different reason than dumb embarrassment.
"I want to help you figure out what's happening," Tubbo speaks first, antenna pricked forward determinedly.
"I do too," I turn to Beau who was leaning with her elbows on the table and a regretful look on her face. "But I don't have a moment to spare with the work I do with the humans."
I had forgotten that she worked in town as well as with Tubbo on the farm. She was the one who sold their goods at the markets.
I shake my head. These guys don't have to get involved in all of this. This whole thing is a massive mess and their governments don't have the recourses to uncover the problem like Alifero does. They should be more concerned about the water they need for themselves, not the water for the rest of the island. I live so comfortably, I do basically nothing all day, I should be the one to fix this. Besides, I can't help but feel like the problem is somehow Alifero's fault.
"You guys don't have to help me," I feel their gazes flicking over my body like sparks. I repressed a shiver. "I can do this on my own-"
"Stop fucking pushing us away Aster!" I'm shocked by Tommy's voice. I look up at him, though this time the aggravation in his face seemed to suppress my butterflies. My eyes were wide as I tried to understand what was happening. Tommy sits forward in his chair gripping his beer so tight I wonder if the glass will crack. The minute our eyes lock I notice a red tint on his cheeks. He looks away.
"You need help," he continues staring down at the table now. "You said you were lacking leads and information... so let us help you find some."
I can't help but feel like there's more to it than that. Maybe I'm being stupidly hopeful again
"I'm in too," Ranboo breaks my train of thought. I look at them all, facing brimming with solidarity. I guess I was in the minority vote again today.
"We can't trust what our politicians say," I warn them. "If we're caught invading government files or information..."
"We'll be in big shit, we get it Aster, but we still want to help," Tommy cuts in again with a look on his face I can't decipher. A million thoughts pass behind his eyes, I wish that I could hear them all. My mouth sets into a small smile.
"I'll help however I can," Beau vows.
I feel my insides grow warmer at their benevolence. They wanted to help everyone, and we are going to be in this together.
I raise my glass with a grin. "To fucking politics."
"No," I look at Tommy confused, but a sly smile spreads on his face. "To saving the fucking world."
The clink of our glasses joins the swell on the Pube as we make our promise.
~~~~
Hello everybody!!!
Here's the map of the island I make on Inkarnate (free version) <3
Also a close-up of Alifero.
I hope you're all having a wonderful morning/day/evening/night <3 <3 <3