A constant, dull thudding echoes around the large room as Fresh hammers the nail down into place. The first of many hundred to come.

She’s working on the ‘ceiling’ to their bedroom and has already set up some rafters and supports with Shamrock’s help. Now it’s just a matter of adding the covering, which is going to be made up out of sheets of wood. Then, a layer of insulating padding will go on top of that and then, after that, another layer of wood. That way it won’t be so noisy inside of the bedroom if anyone is up here, plus it will just be more sturdy and warm.

It takes the better part of the morning, but since business is still catastrophically slow, she’s been ‘allowed’ by Jubilee to go and do this. Though the truth is perhaps that Jubilee had simply sent her away because they were getting annoyed by her constant pestering of them as an alternative source of enjoyment.

Fresh hums to herself, holding the next nail in place and then striking it down into the wood.

Given the sing-song voices of the winter-birds having found nests in the city, between the many nooks and crannies of the winding streets, given the hundreds of voices walking past their open doors and windows, talking about the exciting things that they have planned for the day, given the warm winter sunlight, shining in through the openings in their home and warming the old wood, nobody would ever know that people were doing badly in the outside world.

Fresh sips her tea, tenderly lifting her bandaged thumb to look at it.

She had struck herself with the hammer while working on their bedroom and ran crying to Basil who pampered her back to health. She had tried Jubilee first, but Jubilee told her to stop being such a cry-baby and to get over it.

Fresh smiles and notes the soft, floral taste of the tea. Being a clingy cry-baby… it’s not such a bad life, really.

The ceiling of their bedroom is completed and now, Fresh hovers on her broom down below the real ceiling of their house. Beneath the improvised patch they had laid out over the roof after they moved in. She’s going to take the time to do it right now. This is their home and it has been kind to them, as such, it clearly deserves only the best of her efforts.

She still can’t help but wonder what the deal with the odd house was, though.

Why was there a hole in the roof? Why is there a cut-off space connecting to the dungeon? Why was the craftsman, who had made their shower in the east, also here to make the complicated heating system?

It doesn’t really add up in her eyes, but she’s used to having so many mysteries in her life, that she just doesn’t really think about most of them anymore.

Sometimes, life is just whatever life is. Best not to worry so much about it.

The red-wizard was here again.

Despite her previous thoughts of not worrying about life so much, Fresh is now downstairs in the basement, doing exactly that.

She still doesn’t know what to do or what to think about it.

Fresh’s hands hold the edge of the workbench, as she leans over it and stares blankly at the wooden surface beneath herself.

A good person would help the red-wizard, no matter what, right?

Fresh knows that she is a lot of things. A cruel, horrible witch. A clingy, dumb friend with creepy, possessive tendencies. But is she a good person?

Apparently not, otherwise she wouldn’t even be hesitating to help the red-wizard.

…Presumably?

Nobody is there to give her an answer to her thoughts, so Fresh simply stands there in silence, listening to the bubbling of the cauldron. But it has little to tell her.

In order to get up to the top area of their bedroom, Fresh has made a small staircase. It kind of reminds her of the little staircase she had seen in the attic, back in their house in the north. The one that led up to the bed and the telescope, both of which she now assumes were Jubilee’s, back from whenever their first life had happened, the life before they met.

She also makes a small, waist-high railing so that nobody falls off of the platform. Sure, it’s not a huge drop, but best to be safe. Especially with the spriggans running around.

“You want dinner?” calls Basil over from the staircase as she comes upstairs. “We’re buying from a restaurant tonight.”

Fresh lights up, looking down towards the priestess from her perch. “Was there some business again today?!” she asks excitedly. Restaurant food is expensive.

Basil shakes her head. “No, but we just want something nice today.”

Fresh thinks about it for a second and then nods in agreement.

Sure, it isn’t a responsible, sustainable strategy to buy expensive food when they have next to no income and are living off of their savings.

But sometimes in life, you just… have to let go of responsibility. You’re only here once, after all.

- Presumably.

“I don’t know if I trust this death-trap,” says Jubilee, looking around warily as they stand on-top of the new platform above their bedroom.

“It’s not a death-trap!” argues Fresh. “I was working all day on it!”

Jubilee nods. “Wow? A whole day?,” they ask, rolling their eyes.

“Oh, I’m sure it’s fine,” says Basil, walking on ahead.

The area above their bedroom, the indoor ‘balcony’ is finished and there is still plenty of head-space left. This place really does have a high ceiling. Fresh stares around at the flowers growing out of the walls. Basil sits down on her chair, leaning in to cup one in her hands and to smell the blossom.

They had opted to move their dinner table up here. Not that they didn’t have the space for it down there. It’s just… cozier here. Sure, it’s a bit further away from the kitchen and so it isn’t as easy to carry food here, because you have to go up a small staircase. But it’s cuter and cozier and somehow the different atmosphere just makes dinner feel nicer than it already is.

It might be one of those ‘forgoing practicality and responsibility’ things, like before. Fresh can’t really say.

The four of them sit down and have a nice, warm dinner that none of them had to put any effort into to cook. But that’s okay. Fresh was working on this all day. Basil was making medicine. Shamrock was in the dungeon, providing them with an income and Jubilee held the store down for the two or three people who did actually come inside today to buy something.

So, all in all, the work was there, but in a different way. She supposes that the lesson of the day is to just not worry about it all so much.

In the end of it all, for better or for worse, things are going to be okay, one way or the other.

- Presumably.