Chapter 51

Saturday morning found Arwyn in a rather restive mood. Despite taking out her bad mood on over a thousand monsters the previous night and levelling up, restless energy made her unable to relax or sit still. She wanted to hit something. Unfortunately, tae kwon do class was not until tomorrow.

Arwyn was entirely unused to dealing with strong emotions because she rarely felt them. She dealt with problems promptly and rationally with evidence-based solutions, then promptly forgot about the problem and moved on to more pleasant matters.

The situation with Leandriel was neither a real problem nor easily forgotten. Her mind kept obsessively returning to dwell on it, and attempting to not think about something simply made it worse. The desire to get her brain off of the repetitive and useless line of thinking grew with every passing minute.

Arwyn exercised in only two ways (neither of which involved being outdoors). Tae kwon do was out of the picture for today, so she went into her games room and turned on one of her game consoles. A few minutes of loading time, and the television blared, “Welcome to Dance Dance Revolution!” Electronic dance music pulsed from the speakers.

When it came to physical abilities, Arwyn rated herself two standard deviations below the mean. However, with enough repetition, even she could gain a measure of proficiency at specific tasks. When she started playing DDR as an awkward preteen, she failed even Beginner-level songs. Over a decade of practice, four game consoles, and a dozen different versions of the game later, she occasionally scored AAA on Standard/Difficult-level songs. (Her ability to complete Heavy/Expert songs was limited by physical stamina *wimpy*)

Arwyn stepped onto her metal dance pad (estimated retail value: $150), which was always laid out in front of the television. She selected the first song, then another, then another, letting the driving bass drum and synthesized notes wash over her, focusing on nothing but the complex pattern of arrows flashing across the screen. (The author does not recommend playing DDR if you have photosensitive epilepsy.) Her feet moved faster than conscious thought could direct them, tapping multiple panels for every beat of the music.

As her breathing deepened and her muscles warmed, she was relieved to find that her mind escaped its obsessive pattern of thoughts. Arwyn welcomed the fatigue that calmed her racing mind. In Fantasia, stamina replenished itself so quickly that the deep tiredness that required hours of rest never manifested, so all of her fighting and training failed to impact her ability to worry.

Not wanting to lose the sense of flow(1) she was experiencing, Arwyn pushed herself well past the point of pleasant tiredness, playing continuously for four hours and stopping only when she began to miss steps because her legs refused to react quickly enough. Turning off the console, she prepared herself a late lunch, aware that she was going to regret overdoing it tomorrow. For now, she had finally gotten rid of the knot of tension in her gut and was content.

(Warning: gooey feeling stuff ahead. Feel free to skip to the next set of parentheses.)

While she ate, Arwyn’s subconscious delivered the results of the psychoanalysis it had been working on since the moment she had begun to feel upset: Her reactions were consistent with her being in love with Leandriel.

It was not just the uncomfortably strong attraction that accompanied infatuation – though she felt that as well. No, this was a deeper feeling, one that was dangerous in its ability to leave an emotional scar. Apparently, knowing that the angel did not exist in real life had not preventing her from falling for him. “Stupid programmers,” she muttered, blaming them for creating such a perfect NPC. Handsome, intelligent, kind, and powerful; she was almost annoyed with herself for falling for such a cliché.

Having admitted her feelings to herself. Arwyn was aware that she had to let them go. There was no future to the relationship; there was not really a relationship at all. Her feelings were real, but the person who inspired them was not.

In her mind, Arwyn bade a silent goodbye to Leandriel. She was sure that she would still interact with him from time to time in the game, but she would no longer do so with an unguarded heart. Outwardly, her expression remained unchanged from its usual calm. Inside, she mourned for what could never be.

(Okay, gooey stuff over.)

After a lazy day where she avoided doing anything even remotely productive, Arwyn did not particularly feel like playing Fantasia when bedtime rolled around. However, she did not want to fall behind her friends in level. With a sigh, she got on to the recliner and put on the game helmet with much less enthusiasm than normal.

◊◊◊

“Scanning. Player detected. Welcome back to Fantasia, Fey E’lan.”

◊◊◊

Fey materialized halfway between the rogue trainer and the Moonwood, where she had logged out the night before. In her hand was the rogue token – inscribed with a mask and dagger – that could be combined with the warrior token she already had to lead her to the assassin trainer. In her abilities menu was the newly-learned Weapon Recall, which would return thrown weapons to her possession one minute after being thrown. Neither of these filled her with the proper satisfaction.

Fey sighed, aware that she was going to be in a terrible mood for at least two weeks, in all likelihood over a month. She began walking towards town.

On her shoulder, Amethyst squeaked concernedly.

Fey patted the slime. “Don’t mind me. I’m going to be annoyingly sigh-y for a while, but this too shall pass. It might pass like a kidney stone, but it will pass.”

Amethyst squeaked questioningly. (“What’s a kidney?”)

Fey grinned, taking comfort in the uncomplicated affection she had for her pets. They were not real, either, but she did not want more from them than their help and company while she adventured. She launched into an explanation of the wondrous blood-filtering organ that was the kidney.

Five minutes later, Fey was describing the action of erythropoietin when the PM came in.

“So if you’re going to dope(2), you should keep your hemoglobin levels under 160—”

Inhaling sharply, Fey replied as normally as she could.

A long pause. Fey was aware that she would have normally found something to prolong the conversation, but she was not feeling up to it today.

The request for video chat was completely unexpected. Startled, Fey accepted the call and Leandriel appeared on a virtual screen. His handsome features were… uneasy, she was surprised to see. In contrast, Magic sat on his shoulder with cheerful unconcern, watching his current owner with curiosity. “Is something the matter?” she asked.

“Fey, I—” Leandriel made an agitated movement before turning back to lock gazes with Fey. “I want to apologize for my rudeness during our last conversation.”

Fey gave a puzzled frown. “What are you talking about?” He may have been slightly distant during that conversation, but still impeccably polite, and not in the cold way, either.

“I… I was in a bit of a mood last night, and ended up being rather terse. I am sorry.” Sincerity beamed from Leandriel’s blue eyes.

Despite her mood, Fey could not help but smile at such a classically ‘Leandriel’ speech. “You have nothing to apologize for,” she reassured the angel.

Leandriel scrutinized her expression before asking, “Are you sure? You sounded… upset.”

Fey was surprised; she thought that she had been able to hold a reasonably normal conversation. “How could you tell that through PM?” she asked.

Leandriel paused to consider the question before answering. “You just sounded less cheerful. Hmm… You were perhaps using fewer exclamation marks than normal.”

Fey huffed in amusement. “Do I really use that many exclamation marks?”

“The ideal number,” Leandriel reassured her solemnly, a warm smile in his eyes.

*sigh* He really is irresistible. Fey really could not blame herself for her feelings. Moving to close the conversation, she admitted. “I’m in a bit of a mood tonight, but I’m not mad at you at all.”

Leandriel’s posture relaxed slightly. “Is it something I can help you with?”

Fey smiled, though her dominant emotion was sadness. “No. Something didn’t work out, but there’s nothing to be done about it.”

“ ‘Nothing to be done’,” Leandriel echoed with a crooked smile. “That is actually what made me stop worrying and escape my own mood.”

“What were you worrying about?” Fey asked curiously.

“Someone called me boring,” Leandriel admitted wryly.

Fey could not quite believe that someone would label Leandriel as ‘boring’, or that he would be bothered by such a blatantly false accusation. “You’re perfect,” she stated.

***

Leandriel was speechless. Fey’s words were not said in the shy tone of someone confessing their feelings, in effect, a qualified ‘you’re perfect to me’. No, her tone was as matter-of-fact as if she were saying, ‘The sky is blue.’ As if the matter of his perfection was an obvious truth, and anyone who disagreed was simply incorrect. “Ahm, thank you,” he managed.

Fey grinned at his flustered reaction. “No problem.”

Leandriel scrambled to find a conversational thread. “So, we’re good?”

“We’re perfect,” Fey confirmed, continuing to tease.

“Excellent. I hope you find yourself in a better mood soon.”

Fey’s amusement faded, that sad smile resurfacing. Before he could find another comment to distract her, she said, “Me too. I’ll feel better in a few days. Talk to you later.”

“Goodbye,” Leandriel bade, and the virtual screen winked out.

“So, would you say that went well?” he asked Magic, who was his resident expert on Fey.

The mushroom looked concerned. “Fey-Fey is sad.”

“Yes. I wonder why.” ‘Something didn’t work out,’ was what she said. That was vague enough to apply to almost anything. He felt frustrated that he could not help her, especially when she had used two simple words to destroy the last of the self-doubt lingering in his mind.

You’re perfect.

“I should have said it in return,” Leandriel muttered. Shaking his head at Magic’s questioning sound, he lifted into the air, travelling to the next testing area.

***

Fey was unclear on what exactly would happen when she combined her rogue and warrior tokens, so she decided to prepare as if going on a long, dangerous trip. She replenished her supply of travel food and deposited extraneous items at the bank.

While on her errands, Amethyst began squeaking excitedly and pointing towards the slime territories.

“King Slime again? Aren’t you tired of eating the same thing over and over?” Fey asked.

Amethyst squeaked. (“No.”)

Fey shrugged and headed in the indicated direction.

As before, the giant King Slime wreaked havoc upon the newbies training in the slime territories. Fey paused to make sense of the chaos. Idly, she wondered how many batches of healing salve one could make with a King Slime.

Or, we could find out. Fey decided that doing something ridiculous, like dragging a live King Slime to Kallara’s, was exactly what she needed to feel better. Striding out into the open, Fey dodged running players and ended up in front of the boss monster. When it brought its bubble whipping down towards her, she reached up to intercept.

“Oww,” she winced as the strike bruised her forearm even through her armguard. The pain did not prevent her from grabbing the King Slime’s bubble-arm slightly below the bubble. “Gotcha,” she said with satisfaction. Closing her other hand around the rope-like limb, she began to pull—

Fey went airborne as the King Slime swung its bubble in the other direction. It could not use its limb as if she weighed nothing, but it could definitely lift her off her feet. “A little help here,” she said to her pets as she was dragged along.

A squeaked conversation and then the Feypets went into action. Amethyst retrieved Fey’s rope from her backpack and passed it to Shadow, who tied it to the King Slime’s bubble. Grasping the free end, the gloom jumped onto Boris and fastened it securely to the iron boar’s saddle.

Fey let go as Boris backed up until the rope went taut, immobilizing the King Slime. It squeaked angrily and hopped towards the boar to give itself slack. Boris turned and began trotting back to town, chased by an angry boss. Fey laughed and followed. I’m back.

Fey’s plan showed itself to be incomplete when she actually arrived in the Moonwood. “Drag it in a big circle!” she said hastily when Boris made as if to stop in front of Kallara’s shop. Players scrambled out of the way of both King Slime and boar as Boris obeyed; each of them was easily of a weight that could crush bone.

Kallara came outside at the commotion, immediately spotting Fey and raising an eyebrow. “What is the meaning of this?”

“Does King Slime slime make better healing salve?” Fey asked impishly.

Kallara smiled; as usual, the expression looked slightly scary. “As a matter of, it does.” Turning towards the King Slime, she cast, “Deep Sleep.”

The King Slime went instantly unconscious, flattening against the ground, bubble-arm flopping.

“Bring it inside.” Without a glance at the gawping crowd, Kallara disappeared back into her tree-shop.

It took quite a bit of shoving to force the King Slime through the entrance archway. Fey and her pets had gotten it about halfway through when Kallara absentmindedly sang a note and the archway abruptly widened, creating a graceless pile-up of elf, pets, and King Slime.

Fey scowled and picked herself up.

Kallara was busy rummaging among the cupboards for her largest containers, singing other notes to open the storage areas she rarely used. “You can start filling the containers with slime,” she ordered.

Fey picked up the first pot and used Bleed to create a small gash in the King Slime’s membrane. Whenever she needed to switch containers, she made Obsidian seal the gash with his shadowy body.

It turned out that one King Slime could make twenty extra-large batches of healing salve. Kallara promised that Fey could have a pot of it when it was done brewing. Amethyst was happy because she was able to eat the bubble membrane after Kallara collected its contents. Best of all, Fey exited the healer’s abode in a much lighter mood.

Deciding it was best to take advantage of the temporary reprieve in mopey-ness, Fey travelled far enough away from town to gain some privacy, then pulled out her rogue and warrior tokens. “Ready?” she asked her pets.

Affirmative sounds, and she pressed the tokens together.

The small metal discs fused with a flash of silver light. The engravings changed, turning into a garrote on one side and a poison symbol on the other. Floating into the air, the assassin token began to rotate until it blurred. The air began to warp.

Fey examined the trans-dimensional gateway that appeared. Mist on the other side prevented her from seeing exactly where she would be going. “Let’s do this.”

Deciding it would be best if they all passed through together, Fey sat on Boris and collected all the pets together. Boris calmly walked into the unknown.

Footnotes:

(1) This is a psychological concept as a state of being fully immersed in an activity, sometimes called being “in the zone”.

(2) In athletics, the practice of blood doping involves using exogenous erythropoietin to increase red blood cell production in order to increase the oxygen-carrying capacity of the blood, leading to increased performance. The author does not recommend or endorse this practice.