The quaint proposal.

[Yurrechire]

The blond-haired woman threw her hands up, crimson robes-flaring, as a burst of magical energy shot away from her and into the darkness. Crushed gemstones shone at her feet.

The spell poured past the massive bird some distance ahead, pooling at the feet of the zombies who were besieging the avian. The undead flesh sizzled with gusto, as the bird’s rider paused from its ponderous layings-about with a lance to do a fist-pump, “You go, blondie!”

As yet more shambling corpses emerged from the darkness, a streak of gray seemed to bounce off the wall, rounding the bird and plowing into the zombies. Ichor splattered as the stalker carved a path ahead, all the while mumbling something about time being money and lazy ladies. Such was the life in the stinking depths of the Geffen tower that day, while above-ground, humankind went on with its usual early morning errands.

The expedition was going well- behind the priestess, a sack of bloody horns that no one wanted to carry unless they really had to, was oozing blood onto the limestone floor. The little group dedicated to slaughter and mayhem was about to break for lunch when it turned horribly, terribly wrong.

The zombies cleared, as if by magic, little deviruchis-disappearing into crevasses of the slimy walls. Silence fell in an oppressive cloud, causing the humans to slow.

To stop.

To really look forward.

The wave of demonic horseflesh rounded the corner and slammed into the hapless trio, all teeth, and razor hooves. A startled croak of the bird was echoed by that of the priestess. Holy light arched between the blondie’s small horns as she sent another wave of holy light into the herd, which was held barely in check by the pair of her companions. The roiling mass squealed, one and all, parting where the glowing floor was beginning to shoot sparks and sizzle.

A second of respite, before things went straight into hell. A new figure stepped seemingly through the nightmares, smiling at the hapless adventurers with an odd little smile. A small smile. This plain clothed man was alone and completely out of place in the underground lair. He was also slightly transparent.

“You..!” A mass of birdflesh and flashing spear slammed into the newcomer, only to somehow be deflected back in a spray of gore… More holy light, and flashing blades, and a stalker being flung across the corridor like a rag doll.

It did not end well.

Dates with the doppelganger rarely do.

As a cursing stalker dragged McWren’s semi-conscious body through the portal, she could not help but look back. To the man, behind his herd of demonflesh.

Who stood, watching, hands-behind his back, smiling all the while. His smile was small, and somehow so very familiar.


==



A frog croaked near her ear and Cat McWren twitched awake, opening her eyes to the darkness. Except this wasn’t right. The birds were singing, the crickets were chirping, and it obviously did not sound like night.

Oh.

She pulled the feather beret off of her face, staring at it blankly. This did not belong to her.

Short distance away, a rumpled bird lifted its head from the breakfast of squirming grubs and honked, ponderously. The field around it all looked vaguely familiar. Somewhere west of Geffen?

“No more green pots, Cookie,” Muttered McWren, standing up and cringing as she realized that her boots were missing, “No more green pots, ever.”

Approaching the placid peco, she swung onto its back with some difficulty. Lily’s healing abilities aside, being pounded into the basement dust over and over again tended to leave one sore.

“Funny thing,” She told the bird, letting it finish off the last of the hapless invertebrates, “The buggers did end up getting us out.

They didn’t have to.

Would’ve been more zeny for them.”


Cookie twisted his neck, turning the head upside-down and blinking at McWren.

“Yes, yes. What is money, you say?” Sighing, she nudged the avian towards the distant city walls, “And you are right, of course. It is nothing. Better go penniless than to owe someone like this.”