novelzi 3.80 One Midsummer Evening
3.80 One Midsummer Evening
Our tour of the compound lasts for nearly two hours. Every nook and cranny is thoroughly investigated. Everything that looks like it might be a hiding spot is scrutinized. Chloe’s [Saintess’s Sanctuary] tears through each of the power-suppressing formations like a hot knife through butter, while my [Indomitable Will] and [Archangel’s Gaze] together pierce through anything that even remotely looks like it could be a glamour. But after both of our best efforts to investigate, and still lacking an [Identify] or [Sense Motive] Skill, we are forced to reluctantly concede that there’s no evidence that there were any real hostages.
The true nature of the operation and the accompanying deceptions will take time to unravel. Perhaps they will never be fully known to me. And I have to accept as much.
With more than a bit of reluctance from Chloe, who wants to see them punished for locking me up— if only for a brief time— we end up departing the compound around four in the afternoon. After I swipe away a couple of their more advanced and dangerous prototypes. Set them back a couple of weeks or so. We'll call it a as compensation for the time I spent down here.
As for what happens next regarding the police presence, that's not for me to determine. I’m not sure if the officers on the scene attempted to raid the compound after we left; as I had told Lucien, I neither like nor dislike them enough to take a side with regard to any legal troubles they might face.
I ask Chloe.
I look into Chloe’s pleading, expectant eyes. Even though she’s voluntelling me into spending a good bit of money on her, and despite the fact that that might be considered toxic by some, when she flashes me that soft, gentle, oh-so-loving smile, I can’t help but melt before her. It doesn’t help that, as is almost always the case, she is . We’ve both been busy with the rebuilding over the past couple of weeks, each contributing what we can. Hells below, we haven’t even eaten a lunch or dinner together in nearly ten days, and if it weren’t for sharing a bed, I don’t know if we’d have seen each other even once in that time.
In other words, I need this too.
We slip into the mall and, for once, aren’t immediately noticed upon our arrival. My trademark pink bandana and bright teal wings have become something of an icon in certain circles. But with the former stowed away in my [Inventory] and the latter quickly dismissed before anyone notices, I’m able to walk alongside Chloe with relative anonymity. I say , because the mall really is pretty dead, with the exception of the employees and a fair number of middle-aged ladies. My arm draws some attention, but apparently, not nearly as much as the wings which often drape down my back. Especially when covered in a long-sleeve shirt for exactly this purpose.
It’s a bit of an odd sensation, though not at all unwelcome. In recent weeks, my attire, especially my wings, has become so iconic that I’ve even seen pictures of people cosplaying as me online. I’ve considered posting such a picture myself, if only to see if I can live out the famous meme of coming in third place in a Seraphina lookalike competition. Even in the midst of the apocalypse, it seems that celebrity culture and idol worship are still as alive and well as they’ve always been.
“Ooh!” Chloe says as we pass by an athletic clothier. “I bet you’d look absolutely stunning in !” She’s pointing to a revealing matching outfit of gym shorts and a top that’s basically just a sports bra. “C’mon! Let’s go in and get it.”
“Uh…”
Her arm slips around my waist. something
Chloe leads me into the store. Her eyes are wandering about, while I take it all in at once thanks to the power of [Archangel’s Gaze].
“Hello, ladies,” one of the store clerks says, pulling the two of us out of our mental conversation. “What can I help you with today?”
“I think we’re just looking for right now,” I say.
all She gives me a grin as she struts off toward the back.
We spend the rest of the afternoon buying lots of clothes. Like, a of clothes. Swimsuits, evening wear, professional attire, formal wear, athleisure… Which is apparently an actual word, as I was helpfully informed. Altogether, Chloe runs me absolutely ragged in her rush to get me to try more things on, darting through aisles with a grace and elegance that really represents the heart of who she is as a person.
I’m also still not certain which she enjoys more: putting me into all the new clothes she’s getting me, or watching me remove them. In either case, she is having the absolute time of her life, and it makes me happier than I can properly express in words to see her so gleeful and so carefree at the same time.
That, and, for the first time since the latest calamity, we finally have an opportunity to put outside concerns aside, if only for an evening. Death and destruction and monsters and mayhem and politics and that damned half-conquered Tower Gauntlet will still be there on the morrow. And I’m sure that some people will complain that it’s not fair that we get to enjoy this solace while plenty of less fortunate folks are still recovering in the hospital, or have been lain to their final rest, it’s something that the two of us need, to stay sane amidst all the carnage.
To be a little selfish, to tend to our own emotional needs, to make sure we’re in the best mental state possible, so conflicts like the one from earlier today are resolved without adding to the already-too-high count of dead bodies. It might not be fair, but it necessary, and for tonight at least, Chloe and I are going to enjoy our date without either guilt or regret.
It’s ten to seven when we’re finally done with our shopping spree. The two of us take a moment to slip into one of the bathrooms to change into our date attire— and stow the rest of our new clothing into our respective [Inventory]. I emerge in a smooth, form-fitting, calf-length aquamarine dress that Chloe says matches my eyes perfectly. With a pair of clip-on jade stubs for my ears, black flats on my feet, and a small opal ring on my right hand, I can egotistically say, looking in the mirror, that I look pretty good.
But Chloe. Damn. She always looks good, but as she emerges from the stall, she demonstrates why the little black dress has long been considered a staple of women’s fashion. She’s wearing a pair of four-inch stiletto heels and has a beautiful silken scarf draped around her otherwise bare shoulders. And as the whole picture of her stunning outfit registers in my mind, I find my eyes widening and a bit of drool slipping out of my mind.
She leans forward, placing her hands on my hips and a kiss upon my lips. “I take it you like what you see, Sera,” she says.
“Careful, Chloe,” I respond. “You might hit me with the [Dazed] or [Bewitched] status.”
I sigh.
The chill of heavily air-conditioned air and the scent of garlic and oregano assail me the moment we enter the restaurant. It’s not at all packed, as to be expected for relatively late on a Thursday evening, especially considering the City Slayer’s attack was not even two weeks ago. But it’s far from empty. A pair of empty tables that I can see, one ready for new patrons, the other still with dirty plates upon them.
We check in and get seated in short order, a small booth in the very back of the cozy dining area. I take the seat nearest the back wall, my eyes briefly scanning the surroundings for any sign of potential threats. Not sure if it’s something a habit I’ve developed since the System arrived, always being wary of danger signals, or if it’s a deeper-seated idiosyncrasy that came with growing up in a shit neighborhood.
In either case, Chloe catches my gaze a moment later. Goddesses above, I think I might just be the luckiest woman alive right now. Her hand reaches across the table to mine. Our fingers clasp, and the world fades away. I can see nothing but Chloe. Her warm, crimson lips. Her wavy, shoulder-length hair, her caramel-colored eyes, her flawless complexion, the radiance of her smile. The way she looks at me with that bright, open gaze makes me melt. My hand slides across the table to caress her, and I can’t help but smile and— against whatever reason I might have left— giggle like a dumb schoolgirl.
I don’t know how much time passes before our server arrives. We’re quick to order— I already knew what I wanted long before I entered. Two big fat orders of lasagna, one for each of us, and a Caesar salad for the two of us to split. Our server leaves us, and again the surroundings fade away. There is only my love, my partner, the woman I’ve chosen to live and fight alongside. And, should the worst come to pass, or we reach the inevitable conclusion of a life well lived, to pass alongside her as well.
Neither of us says a word. Nor do we need to communicate telepathically. There’s no need. Even without the effect of [Angelic Bond] conveying our emotions to one another, our eyes, our hands, and even our feet underneath the table speak volumes. My lips curl upwards, and hers follow as we lean in toward each other, unspoken passions and reassurances alike communicated perfectly through the love we’ve both developed for one another.
“You’re pretty,” I say, finally breaking the silence.
“As are you, Sera. Pretty and all mine.”
“I just wanted to say thank you, Chloe.”
“What for?”
“For everything, and nothing. For this wonderful date, for your lovely company, for being you and being so wonderful and kind and caring and a joy to be around, and for being my girlfriend.”
Chloe smiles. “I feel the same way. But Sera, don’t sell yourself short, either. I you. I want you. I want to be by your side.” She leans in closer, switching from speech to telepathy.
Time passes. The sky outside isn’t yet dark, but it’s getting dimmer and more purple by the time our lasagna arrives. The steam feels wonderful on my face, and the smell is magnificent. The fennel in the ground sausage perfectly complements the aroma of the cheese blends layered throughout the eight-layered extravagance before me. My mouth waters at the diced tomato and the perfectly-cooked noodle sheets, neither too crisp nor overly slimy.
I take a bite. It’s delicious. It’s been… I don’t know the last time I’ve had lasagna here before. Such a rare treat before, given our family’s lack of money. But now… Yeah, a lot has changed since the System arrived. A lot of hardship for a lot of people. A lot of death. Senseless, needless, gratuitous death. And I’m not wholly blameless for it, either.
But change has been the only constant of the world, since long before my first birth and probably before the System’s first creation. And while change is scary and rarely easy, when I sit here, across from Chloe, enjoying a date after a long and fulfilling day of trying to help people as best I know how? I’m reminded that change doesn’t always have to be so bad.