Chapter 117: 118: Bathwater

“You’re doing good so far,” says the voice of the fountain. Fresh looks around as she floats in the black-water. Is she?

“Everything went wrong. It was really close,” argues the girl as she floats as a disembodied presence in the light-less ocean. The fountain yawns loudly, not too bothered by her statement. She feels the water surging around herself as a presence shifts and moves nearby, the current pressing all around her sides as it flows around her bodiless form in a spiral.

“No, it’s all going according to plan,” says the voice from the water. “We had a few, little hiccups here and there. But all in all, we’re on the right track.”

“Plan? Track? What are you talking about?” asks Fresh, now entirely lost.

“Ah, don’t worry about it. I just wanted to check in, really.”

“I feel like I should worry about it!” argues the girl. “We had to run for our lives because of how badly I messed up! Basil died!”

“She un-died, it’s fine. As long as the others are useful, we can keep them around,” says the fountain, its voice drolls on as if it were speaking with a deeply sleepy tone, as if it were fighting the nodding of its head as it drifts away mid-sentence.

“That’s really crass! They’re my friends!”

“Sure, sure,” says the fountain, as if disregarding her. “Anyways, you did well. I didn’t expect the shop thing when I gave you your class, but I’ll hand it to you, it all worked out nicely. Very creative.”

“What are you talking about? It was a total disaster!” exclaims the floating girl.

“Was it? Hmm… well, maybe for you,” says the fountain. “I guess on the ground-level, things look different. You fulfilled your task, so it was time to leave anyway. Things were becoming stagnant. Black-water has to flow, you know?”

“My task? I didn’t do anything though,” says Fresh, feeling herself floating upside-down as the current spins her around and around, as if it were playing with her like a small child would with a doll.

“You did everything. We… hmm… what’s the term you people use?” asks the fountain. “We just about hit ‘market saturation’ in that city. There wasn’t anything left for me.”

“Huh? For you?”

“Don’t worry about it. We just bought a lot of time though. With that many, it will make it a lot harder for them to summon that hero to stop us. You did great!”

“That many what? Stop us from doing what? What are we doing?” asks Fresh, feeling more and more distraught at the fountain’s vagaries. Or maybe she just isn’t able to fully understand it, maybe she’s the problem?

The water rushes as it picks up its pace, the current churning as the tide comes to carry her away again, to pull her back to the new life that she lives. The fountain sighs a tired sigh. “What we’re doing? Well I’m taking a nap now,” says the sleepy voice, as she begins to float off towards the distant darkness. “You? You’re going to open a store,” says the fountain. “No rest for the wicked.”

Fresh’s eyes shoot open as the back of a soft hand slaps against the side of her face. The girl lays on her sore back on a blanket on the floor, as she stares up towards the dark ceiling of their room in the western adventurer’s guild. Looking to her side, she stares at Basil who is flailing in her sleep. The priestess’ arm slides off of her face as she twists around, hitting the other way. She really is quite the restless sleeper, apparently.

Fresh sits upright, feeling her now damp blanket stick to her skin, as she stares around the half-dark room that they all find themselves in. The room is a bit different than the one in the northern city, though it is just as sparsely furnished with only one bed. Adventurers were apparently expected to buy or make their own furniture, which is fair enough in her eyes. The walls are much like the rest of the architecture here in this city, being made of an off-white plaster with dark timber-framing. Any noises of the sounds of the revelry outside are entirely muted and silent, despite being just a wall away. She supposes that’s because they are in a cut-off space. Nobody sleeps on the single bed, instead, Jubilee had them take the mattress off of it and lean it up as a separator, which they are sleeping behind. Shamrock sits by the door, leaning against the wall.

A leg bends out to the side as Basil kicks her through her blanket. Fresh sighs, placing a hand on the priestess’ head, though not really sure why. Is this weird? Is she being creepy? Fresh isn’t sure, but she pets Basil’s hair in the hopes that it will help her settle down. Judging by the sharp kick that she receives again, it apparently doesn’t.

The girl purses her lips, thinking about her dream. But the more she thinks about it, the more vague and distant the vision becomes and soon enough she is left with nothing but a darkness in her mind, similar to that of this room. She couldn’t fall back asleep now, even if she wanted to, so instead, Fresh thinks that she should get up early to get ready for this brand new day. Quietly, she gets up, covering Basil with her blanket as the priestess had kicked her own blanket away. She can see the vague lump lying halfway across the room and she steps over it as she gets dressed and creeps towards the sliding door, pulling it gently to the side as she steps into the pale, blue fog beyond and then closing it behind herself before she fades away into the mist.

Fresh can’t help but smile as she returns to the party outside that hasn’t seemed to temper itself in the least. Something about the fact that people here are so open and loud makes her really happy. She wonders if adventurers here are kinder? They certainly seemed like it, sort of. Ducking through the rows of tables, she goes through a door upstairs, not far from theirs, that Jubilee had shown her before they went to bed.

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The crowd by the front door erupts into a series of hollers and loud cheers as a man walks in the entrance, being embraced and surrounded by the many people the second that he walks in. Fresh smiles as she watches his cloth-draped silhouette vanish behind the many excited bodies rushing to see him. She hopes that she can be greeted like that when she walks into a place one day. Nodding to herself, determined to put in some work today to make that dream come true, she opens the sliding door to the bathing area and steps inside.

A heavy, dewy steam flows against her and she closes the door behind herself as she steps inside to wash the gunk and grime and goo of the last two weeks off of her body.

The washing room and all of its furnishings and features are also made out of the heavy white stones and plaster, their surfaces trickling as the hot steam rolls down them like melting wax from a candle and within seconds it starts to do the same on her, as the dew pearls on her skin. As Fresh heads to the bathing area, she can’t help but notice a small, sink-like fountain. It isn’t particularly ornate or artistically crafted. The decorations are all just vaguely occult’ish, just all vaguely resemblant of something old and spooky, but not so much so that it draws any attention. She leans forward, examining the fish in the center that spews water out of its mouth in a constant trickle and as the water wicks from its body, she can see a vague reflection of herself in it for just a brief moment.

It winks.

Fresh yelps, quickly shuffling away to wash up in private.

Jubilee had said that the first thing that they’ll do today is check out the town for any properties that are available, ideally near the dungeon. At the word ‘dungeon’, Shamrock seemed to become oddly excited as visible by his frantic breathing, but Jubilee told him to settle down. They’d get to go inside of the dungeon soon enough. Fresh had promised in the meanwhile to go into town with Basil to find some new clothes and provisions for them all. Their plan is to stay in the adventurer’s guild for now. It only made sense, they had everything that they needed here. Plus she really likes it. Somehow, her blunder during her early days here was really paying off, even now, this far into the future.

Undressing and stepping into the bath, Fresh submerges her head beneath the hot water, vigorously rubbing her long hair with her fingers as she reaches out and grabs some soap. “It’s all going according to plan, huh?” she mutters to herself as she breaches back out of the surface, realizing only a moment later as she scrubs herself, as she stares down at her reflection, that it is staring back up at her.

Fresh tilts her head and the reflection does the same. “You know? I’d really like some privacy now and then,” says the girl to herself. The reflection doesn’t respond, simply staring up at her as it carries the same expression that she has on her own face, its hands holding the bubbly bar of soap against its pale skin.

An hour later, after she finally feels clean from well over two weeks of grime, after pulling out countless twigs from her knotted hair and plucking dirt and hardened gunk off of her robe, she returns outside, feeling like a creature that has been freshly reborn. Her steps feel light and her muscles feel relaxed, there isn’t even an inkling of an ache in her back. Smiling, she rolls her neck as she hurries past the loud party, deciding to go out into town to look around while the others are still asleep.

Even if she has to wait on them to do anything, there is still so much to see.

Razmatazz

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