ukimiya | we're gonna afterparty and you're GOING TO FUCKING LIKE IT

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we're gonna afterparty and you're GOING TO FUCKING LIKE IT

[Tiki wanders into the great hall expecting company, expecting a full room just like before to abate her loneliness and what she finds instead is...Mahiro, chillin'.

And no one else.

Okay. Cool. Fine. She'll throw a goddamn party herself IF THAT'S WHAT'S HAPPENING, TRY HER.

So she drags one (1) rude teen into the kitchen despite protests that he can't cook, finds Eizen actively in the middle of cooking, and takes full advantage of the situation and also her own cute charm until curry for two turns into curry for twenty four.

Everyone will find notes slipped under their door, courtesy of Tiki's new gopher since he refuses to cook, the first part written in loose, loopy handwriting like an elementary schooler who hasn't quite gotten the hang of the cursive they've been taught:]

Let's meet in the Great Hall together in about an hour and have dinner again this time, so nobody has to be alone.

[aaand under that in a completely different set of handwriting:]

I don't know why we're doing this after someone died from getting poisoned through food but at least there won't be any fucking cake. Don't come if you don't want to.

[hm. well.

in the Great Hall, Tiki's hard at work setting up Eizen's mabo curry for the taking (and she's bullied him into making exactly one plate of non-spicy curry because she loves Hanyuu), and also hard at work into bullying Mahiro into helping her set up silverware and plates and beverages. It's not much, but it's here.]

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Um... [She shuffles a little, trying to remember, because what's one or two or even ten years to someone who's lived a millennium?] I think...he must be close to seventy years now? His hair's all gray and his skin's all wrinkled, even more than Lord Gotoh. [Which is about where her standards are.]

Ah.

[Listen, so long as he's not, like, thirty-one, that's all Ros is concerned with.]

Stop moving.

[She says, resuming pinning up her hair.]

Do you remember any puzzles?

[jagen's primary personality trait is in fact just being Old As Balls

In the meantime, Tiki goes very still all at once, only to start fidgeting her hands in her lap again—unobtrusive, at least.]

He likes puzzles where I have to find things or move them around, or where we can set up pieces. Oh, there was one—I was supposed to find something that was light as a feather, but none of the knights in the whole palace, no matter how strong, would be able to hold it for any longer than five minutes.

[She's pausing here, expecting an answer. Being the riddle-giver instead is exciting!!]

[It takes her a moment, but she's smiling as she says:]

Their breath?

You got it! [She starts to fidget again, cheerfully kicking her feet, and then quickly settles once she remembers that she's not supposed to be moving.] It took me much longer than that. I'm not as good at the puzzles as I am at racing and stuff.

And are they all dragons, these companions?

[Actually, wait--]

What do you mean by racing, specifically?

[Ros can't see that Tiki looks kind of baffled by that first question, but she totally does.]

No, of course not. These are Mar-Mar's knights. [one day she'll get the hang of not just assuming these things are super obvious to everyone but her.] But we go running, or see who can complete training courses faster. You know, races.

Of course. Silly me.

[She says it dryly, but there's something fond in her voice nonetheless. Truth be told, she's quite pleased with how this entire conversation is going. There's still grief weighing her down, but this is . . .

Nice.

How strange. She'd never much liked children before this. She hadn't even liked children when she was a child, but interacting with Tiki . . . it's refreshing. Tiring, sometimes, but enjoyable. There's something lovely about her optimism and the gaps in her knowledge.

Perhaps this is what Robert wanted, she catches herself thinking. He'd talked about babies, about children, and she'd scoffed, but . . . perhaps it wouldn't be so bad, having someone young toddling around behind her.

She pins the last strand up, pushes her comb in place, and leans back, smiling to see the familiar hairstyle on Tiki.]

There, now. You're finished.

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