Chapter 185: 186: Shifting tides

*NYAAAAH~!* shouts Mr. Mushroom, releasing his sonorous war-cry as he charges into battle. For some reason, he’s wearing a cape. Fresh sits on top of him, holding on to the leather reins as he charges through the dungeon, trampling through hordes of tiny, little wizards, all dressed in red, sending them flying in all directions. The ones that he misses, Fresh gets instead by lightly bonking them on the head with a white wooden-staff, adorned with a childishly crafted golden star, as she rides past them.

Every time she taps their heads, the staff releases a shower of sparkles that fly through the air, mesmerizing the further away foes with a hypnotizing magic, so that they aren’t able to join in on the fight, because they are lost in the beauty of the spectacle. It’s the ultimate strategy.

*Nyah!* howls Mr. Mushroom as they reach the boss-room of the dungeon. Fresh shares in, howling with him as well.

“Nyaaaah~!”

The ground shakes, the dungeon rattles as a giant mass begins to form and collect in the center of the room. Clothes and fabrics of all colors flow across the stones, crawling like snakes as they meet in the center of the chamber to form a giant entity; a colossus, made out of thousands of strands of fabric, out of hundreds of thousands of strings. Most of them are red.

Fresh and Mr. Mushroom ready themselves for the fight, as the fabric comes together into the shape of a giant serpent, a jewel embedded in its forehead.

A sharp snapping sound breaks the tension.

Everything stops. The snake falls apart.

Fresh finds herself lowering down to the ground, as Mr. Mushroom melts into a black puddle, his eyes staring questioningly up her way.

*NyAhaHah…~* groans Mr. Mushroom as he dies. Fresh falls down into the black-tar that remains of him.

A loud yawning can be heard from the side. Distraught, she looks towards it and sees Jubilee standing there, leaning against the wall with their arms crossed. Water pours out from their mask, flooding the stone floors of the dungeon, as if they were an endless source of water.

“Man, talk about subtext. I can’t tell if these are issues from your old life or your new one. But you have problems, you know?” asks Jubilee, staring around the slowly liquefying arena.

Fresh blinks as she stares at them, feeling ready to cry. She suddenly realizes that she is dreaming. She rises to her feet, looking at the spirit of the fountain that is masquerading as her cherished friend.

“If I have problems, it’s your fault,” says Fresh, crossing her arms.

“Woah, woah,” replies the fountain, Jubilee’s body raises its hands. “I didn’t do anything. You’re the one being a weirdo,” it says, waving her off. The water rises to their knees and the fountain stretches its body out, rising to the tips of its toes.

Fresh narrows her eyes. “I appreciate that you gave me this new life.” she says. “But you’re making me do bad things and I don’t think it’s okay. I want the world to be a nicer place.”

The fountain looks at her, taking off the mask. Black-water floods out of the empty space where its face should be and Jubilee’s clothes fall down into a limp, empty heap that floats atop the surface of the water. The spirit of the fountain yawns, the noise echoing all around them. “I’m not making you do anything that you don’t need to do to survive.”

“Huh?”

The water rises to her stomach. “Do you like this new life of yours? If not, I can put you back.”

“What?” asks Fresh.

“I can put you back. Into your old life. Do you want that?”

Her eyes shoot open wide, as the water reaches her neck. “No!” she pleads, leaning in forward with her fists clenched.

“Really? Are you sure? I could set it up so that as soon as you open your eyes, you’ll wake up back in your old bed,” it explains. “If you aren’t happy with the way things are here,” it suggests. “Our deal was that you get the chance to find happiness and to make some money, it feels like both of those things have held up.”

“I don’t want to go back,” says Fresh. The water rises to her neck.

“Great!” says the fountain, “It looks like we’re on the same page then.”

“What do you want?” asks Fresh as her head is submerged beneath the black-water. Yet she has no trouble with the air in her lungs. It’s just a dream, after all.

The water rushes around her, spinning her body around and around in a circle. As she looks down, she sees that her previous gestalt, present in the dream before, is now beginning to unravel like so many loose strings coming apart from fraying fabric, as the water carries pieces of her off and away into all directions.

“I want you to get ready. We’re doing it quietly and peacefully this time. The gods are getting involved and we need to close things up nice and neat before they ruin everything again,” explains the sleepy voice, lulling drolly through the water.

“Get ready for what? Do what peacefully?” she asks, feeling the current carry the shapeless entity, that she herself now is, away into the darkness.

“It’s almost time to leave.”

“Leave?” Fresh thinks for a second, before realizing that the fountain means the west, the mountain. “No! I don’t want to leave! We’re finally starting to feel like we have a home!” she protests. “Please!”

“Having a home wasn’t part of the deal,” replies the fountain. Her essence tumbles and twists as the light-less ocean carries her away. “You’ll know when it’s time. Leave then. Or I’ll make you and you won’t like it.”

Fresh opens her eyes, shooting upright in her bed. Her body is drenched from head to toe. The water stains her bedding and the bright-blue blanket that Jubilee had made for her. It also has the added advantage of concealing the tears streaming down her face. But this does nothing to hide the wailing of her lungs. Basil, already awake, sets down her mug on the table and quickly scoots over to her as she hears her distress, trying to figure out what’s wrong.

Fresh hides her wet face in Basil’s robe for a while, doing her best to hide her snot-crying from the world. The priestess is unable to console her, and so, instead, simply holds her head to her chest. Her hand rests atop Fresh’s head, stroking her hair.

It takes a while for Fresh to calm down, the dream staying present in her mind together with the instructions and the threats that would befall her in the case of her non-compliance. It takes a while longer for her to reach a state where she is capable of holding a rational discussion and not just short blurts, unsuccessfully trying to describe to her friends what she had seen and what they needed to know.

After about fifteen minutes, Fresh changes into dry clothes and she and the others sit around the table, as Fresh explains to them what was told to her by the fountain. Minus the parts about her old life.

They all already knew about her patron, in a sense. All of them have already seen her menu and the name of the entity that she serves, having mocked it as sounding like something that is blatantly evil. As these days have come to pass, Fresh hasn’t seldom wondered if they weren’t right about this assumption. Apart from that, all witches have patron spirits to begin with, so they aren’t surprised to hear her explain that she was speaking to hers.

She finishes her story, her trembling hands locked down firmly against the table where her eyes rest as well, unable to look at any of them in the face.

None of them have said anything yet while she explained, which makes things even worse for her. She wishes that they would at least yell at her or something.

“If you guys want to stay here, I understand,” says Fresh, clenching her fists. “I’ll just go by myseeelf~” she says, starting to cry again at this most terrible prospect.

&"% / ($§%)

[(Jubilee) hits (Fresh) for {3} PHYSICAL DMG with {Dungeon Snack(Green)}]

“Ow!” yelps Fresh through her latest tears as the piece of candy donks off of her head and falls to the table, rolling away against the staircase wall.

“Fuck off, shit-head!” snaps Jubilee at her. “As if!”

&"% / ($§%)

[(Basil) hits (Fresh) for {1} PHYSICAL DMG with {Flick}]

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Fresh yelps again as Basil’s finger leaves her forehead. “Sorry,” apologizes Basil to her. “But Jubilee is right,” says the priestess, crossing her arms. “Fuck off.” Fresh gasps, having never heard Basil say such a thing to her before. “As if,” finishes the priestess, lifting her nose and looking away.

Instinctively, Fresh closes her eyes, expecting Shamrock to come at her next. She hopes she doesn’t die. Nothing happens. Carefully, she slowly opens a watering eye to look across the table at the man, who hasn’t risen from the spot. His breastplate heaves, but he doesn’t say anything. He simply looks out through the open balcony door for a moment. “The moon has yet to fall to the world,” is all that he says, bringing his part of the conversation to a much kinder close than the other two.

“I’m sorry, guys,” apologizes Fresh as she cries, realizing that she has such good friends. “What are we going to do?”

“What we’ve been planning to do,” says Basil, looking over at Jubilee. “Is everything okay on that end?”

Jubilee leans back, their arms crossed. “Yeah. We’re good.” They sigh as they look around the stone room. “I really liked it here though. Fuck.”

“Yeah,” says Basil, pulling on her own sleeve quietly.

“It will be good,” says Shamrock. They look over to him. “What comes next, it will be good,” he states, picking up the piece of green candy and popping it into his helmet.

Fresh blinks, looking around the table, unsure what they’re all talking about. “Guys?”

“We made a plan, remember?” asks Jubilee. “You were too busy being a fuck-off to help us with it, so we made it without you.”

“A plan?” asks Fresh, remembering that the three of them had made a business plan. Is that what they’re talking about?

“A plan, goo-brain,” repeats Jubilee, tapping their finger against the table. “As if we didn’t see this coming. Of course we’d have to leave eventually with you around causing trouble.” Fresh looks at Jubilee, confused. “I mean, I figured it would have been because of another massive fuck-up of yours and not this. But whatever, the plan will still work.”

“We’ve been putting our money to the side since we got here,” explains Basil. “We figured we’d need it when we have to go to a new city.”

“Why?” asks Fresh, wiping her tears away.

Basil smiles at her. “Jubilee told us about that hero-dream you had, back in the north. We figured we’d prepare.”

“Why?” asks Fresh, her eyes wetting again no matter how often she rubs them dry.

“Because it’s what friends do,” sighs Basil, as if this were the obvious answer. Closing her eyes, she takes a long sip of her now cold tea.

“Where are we going to go?” asks Fresh, as a ray of the rising morning-sun comes in through the balcony door, washing over them all together at once, as if the sky itself were partaking in their discussion. Fresh looks out through the balcony, staring at the distant sun which rises in the east.

What about the fairies? What about all of this work they’ve been putting into their home? What about all of the things she still wants to do and to see here?

“How long do we have?” asks Jubilee.

“I don’t know,” replies Fresh.

“Well. Fuck.” They snap their fingers at Shamrock. “You, meat-head. You’re taking the day off to install the - ” Jubilee’s eyes twitch. “- Magical floating fairy houses in the forest.” Shamrock rises to his feet without a word and heads downstairs. Jubilee points at Basil. “You. Run around town, set up fairy-deliveries to the local alchemists and dye-makers. Offer them money if you have to, to get them to consider it.”

Basil nods, emptying her mug as she walks downstairs.

“You!” barks Jubilee, snapping their fingers at Fresh who stares back at them bewildered. “It could be tonight, it could be two weeks from now, it could be in a month,” explains Jubilee. “Go downstairs into the basement. Pack as many resources, materials, bottles, weapons as you can in that fucky magical-storage of yours. We’re going to need them.”

“Jubilee?” asks Fresh.

Jubilee gets up and gets off of their chair. “We’re doing it right this time. I’ll figure out what to do with Veli.”

Fresh’s crying breaks through her efforts to conceal it again as she grabs Jubilee in a hug. “You’re the best, Jubileeeee~” she howls.

“I know!” barks Jubilee, trying to push her away. “Fuck off, will you?”

“Noooo~!”

Razmatazz

Nyah~

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