085

4.02 - The Prize, a Favor

Zoey drifted to consciousness with a becoming-familiar warmth pressed into her. Cracking her eyes open, the sight of Rosalie's platinum-blonde hair met her. Zoey was snuggled into her, playing the big spoon. She sighed in satisfaction and hugged Rosalie closer.

For a while she luxuriated in Rosalie's warmth. In her

girlfriend's

warmth. The word made her heart skip a beat. It would do that for a while.

Soon enough, Rosalie stirred too.

"Good morning, beautiful," Zoey murmured.

"Mm," Rosalie replied, stuffing her face into the pillow. "What time is it?"

"We didn't set an alarm. So ... late?"

Rosalie groaned, but kept her face buried into the pillow.

She stayed that way for long enough Zoey thought she might actually go back to sleep, but then she groaned a second time and forced herself to sit. Zoey pouted, even if it

was

time to be getting up. They'd basked in each other's company for the better part of a day—all of last evening and well into this morning—but at the same time, that wasn't nearly enough. She wanted more. Did they really have to start their day?

Rosalie's scrunched-up face suggested she was having similar thoughts, but unlike Zoey, she had an iota of willpower. Rosalie sighed, then leaned down and kissed Zoey's forehead, before shuffling out of bed. Rosalie had no idea what the casual show of affection—coming from her—had done to Zoey. For a long moment, she lay there, stunned, turning into a pile of goo.

Eventually, an "are you joining me?" spurred her into action. She slipped out of bed and joined Rosalie in the bathroom.

One brisk, shared shower later—in which Zoey only teased Rosalie a little bit—they got dressed, then showed up in front of Delta's door. Zoey knocked. She wanted to make it a routine that the team ate breakfast together. Though, their morning had started late, so there were good odds Delta had set off.

Fortunately, though, she hadn't. After a few moments of shuffling, a loud thump, then a string of curses, a bleary-eyed Delta—long orange hair in disarray—appeared at the door. She eyed Zoey, looking annoyed, but after her attention flicked to Rosalie, she seemed to remember what last night had been. Her sour expression turned to a smirk.

"Good morning, lovebirds."

Rosalie eyed her. Even more than normal, Delta's smirk was so blatant and taunting as to make even Zoey blush. Delta shared a wall with them, and with how loud she and Rosalie had been, Delta knew—intimately—what they'd been up to.

"Morning," Zoey said. "Uh. We're heading down for breakfast. Wanna join us?"

Delta ignored Zoey, having eyes only for Rosalie, who, hilariously, was actually struggling to return her usual glare. Her cheeks were pink. Delta did have a talent in making people squirm just with a look. "Sure," she finally said, turning to Zoey. "Give me a second."

She left the door open, and Zoey and Rosalie trailed in. Rosalie didn't protest at having to wait for Delta. She hoped that wasn't just because Rosalie knew Zoey wanted her to join them, but because she was starting to see Delta as part of the group.

Delta threw on a pair of fuzzy slippers, brushed her hair so it wasn't a total disaster, then grabbed her room keys. "Kay. Let's go." She'd finish getting ready later, apparently.

Down in the dining hall, they sat at a table for four. Despite Zoey being the one seated across from Delta, Delta kept her eyes on Rosalie. She didn't say anything outright—didn't tease or taunt verbally. Instead, she kept that same smirk plastered on. And Rosalie, also like before, couldn't work up a returning glare. She ignored Delta to the best of her ability, but was losing horrendously. She squirmed in her seat.

Zoey almost felt like she should intervene in the silent war, especially since Rosalie was now officially her girlfriend, but she was enjoying the show. Seeing Rosalie squirm was cute. And by the glares Rosalie sometimes shot Zoey, too, Zoey's grinning reaction was only escalating the problem.

"Just say it, won't you?" Rosalie finally blurted out. She blushed, then stuck her chin in the air and straightened her back. "Stop

smirking

and say what you want to."

Delta turned to Zoey. "So. What do you have planned today?"

The offended look that appeared on Rosalie's face was priceless. She'd finally worked up the nerve to force the issue, and Delta had ignored her. Rosalie actually

pouted,

a reaction even Zoey had difficulty drawing. Zoey squeezed Rosalie's knee underneath the table, fighting away the humor of the situation. She didn't do a great job.

'Traitor', Rosalie's glare said.

"Sabina first, then Maddy in the afternoon," Zoey answered. "I think that's going to be the usual. The evening's open, though."

"Does that mean I get

my

date?"

"You already had yours," Rosalie shot at her.

"So I'm not allowed a second?"

"How about a team date?" Zoey asked, cutting things off before they got out of hand. "Or, an outing. You invited me out for drinks, right? Maybe Maddy will want to come." She glanced at Rosalie, who pursed her lips. Zoey could read her expression; she wanted to be more productive. Maybe two nights out in a row was pushing things?

"I'd be down," Delta said. "We need to meet her as a group. Should I invite her? Or you?"

"I can. During practice."

"I

should

get a feel for her, I suppose," Rosalie said. "It sounds like she'll be joining the team, assuming she ... digests Zoey's class." She glanced at Zoey. "But I can't be going out

every

night. I should be training.

We

should be training."

"All day?" Delta asked, rolling her eyes. "We can use the evenings for ourselves."

Rosalie gave her an unimpressed look, which showed what she thought of that.

"And where do you go, anyway?" Delta asked. "To train. Why not come with me? For spars. I know the competition."

Rosalie eyed Delta. The offer to join her had been delivered with surprising earnestness, and she didn't trust that. Delta seemed to realize that too, because she paused, then smirked and fixed things: "And how about we make it more interesting? Ever play a round of strip spars?"

Zoey's interest was instantly piqued.

Rosalie, though, only seemed confused. "Strip spars?" she asked, as if genuinely not understanding what they were.

It was adorably naive. It wasn't like the name left much to interpretation. And if anything, Delta's tone should have given it away.

"Loser of each round takes off a piece of equipment." Delta leaned forward, grinning. "And let's say, overall winner gets a favor. Anything they want." The amount of innuendo packed into 'favor' was impressive even by Delta's standards.

Rosalie flushed. She looked at Zoey, incredulous. There was also a hint of a question. 'And you'd be okay with that?' the look said.

It reminded Zoey that she and Rosalie needed to have a sit-down about their relationship. Zoey didn't mind Delta hitting on Rosalie—actually hitting on her, even, not just teasing—but that was because Delta was part of the group, and Zoey was interested in Delta, which changed things. If it'd been anyone else, Zoey wouldn't have been.

Which was hypocritical, she knew, seeing how Rosalie was fine with Zoey doing whatever—and whoever—she wanted. But it was how she felt. She couldn't help that. Zoey wasn't quite as open to the idea of 'sharing' as Rosalie apparently was.

All dynamics were fine if everyone involved was happy with them, but they hadn't

discussed

their dynamics. It was the sort of thing best explicitly talked about, not inferred. She'd have to sit with Rosalie and figure it out. Probably Delta too, at another point, just to make sure everyone was on the same page.

"A favor from Delta," Zoey teased Rosalie, answering in a roundabout way. "Sounds useful to have, don't you think?"

"Thanks for the faith," Delta said dryly. "I mean, come on. She's good, but she's not

that

—" she trailed off, then frowned. "She wouldn't win

every

time. I'm not a pushover. It wouldn't be free."

Rosalie didn't look smug about Delta's assessment. Rosalie

was

better in a fight, and by a significant margin. To her, it was a given. She was better than everyone in that regard, at least for her advancement. Bizarrely, she displayed that belief, and it didn't come off as arrogant. It came with the same sort of attitude as, 'yes, I have blue eyes', or, 'yes, I have blonde hair'. A given, a fact, and ultimately inconsequential.

"As if I would

want

a favor from her," Rosalie said.

"Wouldn't you?" Delta asked. "I think I could change your mind, once you got a taste." She shrugged. "But that's assuming you win. I don't think you would. In a normal spar, you'd have good odds. Strip spars? I have the feeling you'd get ... distracted."

Rosalie flushed, and suddenly couldn't meet Delta's eyes. Delta had struck the nail on the head. Still, Rosalie tried to retort. "Distracted? I can't imagine by what. Your irritating comments?"

"Oh?" Delta asked, leaning another few inches closer to Rosalie, who still couldn't meet her eyes. "Stripping me half-naked won't cause any problems, will it? Won't distract you at all? Well, if you're confident about that, let's play. Like Zoey said, it'll be a free favor. I guess you don't even have to ask anything gross of me. I could be your errand girl for the day." She rolled her eyes. "Means you get to be even more productive." Then, she openly leered at Rosalie. "But to make it clear, if I win, I'm making good use of my favor."

Rosalie's eyes widened, and she went an even deeper shade of red. She glanced at Zoey, who continued to watch the exchange, amused. Zoey could see on Rosalie's face that she realized she'd backed herself into a corner. After displaying so much confidence that she'd win, she had to accept.

Rosalie turned back to Delta, and seeing her smug, taunting expression, bristled.

She stuck her chin in the air. "I suppose an errand girl

does

sound useful."

"Perfect," Delta said, leaning back. She looked pleased she'd goaded Rosalie into it. She turned to Zoey. "I'll save the favor for when you can watch. Or we can use it together." She paused. "Because you two

are

a thing now, I'm taking it?"

There was more to the question than just the surface. Delta wanted to know what the acceptable dynamics were. She'd seen from Zoey's reactions that flirting with Rosalie was fine, but more? Especially alone?

Honestly, Zoey wasn't fully certain of that herself. For now, she'd rather anything that happened between Delta and Rosalie—serious, at least, like cashing in on the 'favor'—happen with her there.

But the question.

"Yeah," Zoey said, putting her hand over Rosalie's. "Girlfriends. Officially." The word made her glow, and it probably showed on her face, by the way Delta laughed. To her side, Rosalie's cheeks went pink, and she sniffed, looking away, as if fighting away her own glowing reaction.

"Good for you two. I figured, but." She shrugged. "And, in the future, the Guild's soundproofing is good, but not

that

good. So ... you two aren't allowed to make that much noise and not invite me over. It's mean."

Zoey laughed, but Rosalie, oddly, made a strangled noise. She looked horrified, as if she'd just realized that Delta had heard much of what had gone on last night. She'd known Delta was aware they'd gone on a date, and had probably been together afterward, but that Delta knew for certain? Had heard each loud noise they'd made? Rosalie's brain

did

seem to shut that sort of thing away, obvious as it should've been.

"We'll keep that in mind," Zoey said, amused. A brief silence, then Zoey added: "I wish I could come watch the fight." Strip spars between Delta and Rosalie. It made alchemy lessons almost sound unappealing, and today she and Sabina be getting to the more interesting stuff. Actual brewing.

And, maybe this made Zoey a bad girlfriend, but she was kind of rooting for Delta.

A favor. What, exactly, did Delta have planned, assuming she won?

4.03 - ❤ Sabina's Special Room

Sabina held the potion vial up to the air, inspecting the swirling red liquid with a critical eye. She frowned, and Zoey's heart skipped a beat. Had she messed up?

"It's poor," Sabina said, shaking the vial. "Clearly the work of an amateur."

Zoey stared at Sabina, distraught. That had been ... more direct than Zoey had expected. Sabina tilted her head, pausing, as if confused at Zoey's reaction.

"You

are

an amateur," Sabina pointed out. "Perhaps not even that. A stark beginner. And in that regard, you've done quite well. Much better than expected." She paused. "Ah. I should have led with that. I apologize."

Zoey stared at Sabina a second longer, then laughed and relaxed. Well, she had known the tall, antlered woman for a bit now, so it wasn't like she was surprised. Sabina's lack of grace in social situations was well established. Her pride stung, still, but as Sabina had said, she

was

a 'stark beginner'. There wasn't anything to take offense at.

Alchemy was the sort of skill that took ages to improve at. And she'd said Zoey had done 'well' and even 'better than expected'. The flip side to Sabina's brutal and sometimes clueless honesty was that she could trust the praise. So, she'd done horribly, but all beginners were expected to be bad. And for a beginner, she'd done quite well.

"That's good," Zoey said. "Honestly, I'm just glad I got through it. I was getting worried near the middle. And then bottling, that it'd actually catalyze."

It felt like she had been tackling catastrophe after catastrophe during the brewing stage. Her rune afforded her plenty of instincts in identifying what was wrong, but much less so how to solve those problems. But even so, with minimal guidance, she'd managed a small pot of healing potions—about six vials' worth. And sure, health potions were one of the easiest recipes in existence, but progress came in small steps.

Sabina hummed in understanding. "The chaos of the brew is one of the most engaging aspects. One of the reasons I love it." At Zoey's dubious look, having found the situation quite stressful, Sabina said, "Once you get to upper-level brews, you'll understand."

"If you say so."

She'd grown an easy familiarity with Sabina over yesterday's, and now today's, lessons. Though Sabina remained as cool and clinical as ever, the two of them were starting to build a repertoire, a comfort around each other.

"Now," Sabina said. "Let's get cleaned up and try something more complex. Go ahead and throw that out."

The health potions Zoey had made were effectively worthless, and so Zoey had known it would be thrown out rather than saved and sold as merchandise, but she winced anyway. Sabina's frankness was endearing most of the time, but not

all

the time. She couldn't have put it slightly more delicately? That was Zoey's first brew ever ... and straight into the sink, disposed of? It made sense, but still. Oh well.

She and Sabina started cleaning the many utensils and equipment they'd dirtied while brewing. While scrubbing down the equipment and scrubbing out the vials, Zoey brought up a topic she'd been chewing over.

"How much do alchemy runes vary, anyways?" Sink-water poured down as a backdrop noise. Zoey scraped and scrubbed while Sabina dried and laid the tools out on racks.

"You'll need to be more specific."

"You say that a lot."

"Because you're

vague

a lot," Sabina said pointedly.

Zoey laughed, and while Sabina didn't do so—or even smile—Zoey was learning to read the granite-expressioned woman. The quick retort was playful, by Sabina standards, even if it lacked the usual indicators.

"Can a person's overall class affect their alchemy rune?" Zoey tried again. "Their 'path', or whatever."

Zoey had been more specific, like Sabina had asked, but Zoey also winced at doing so. Because Sabina was a brilliant woman, and so, when Zoey asked questions like these, she always read the intent behind them.

Zoey had asked whether her class affected her alchemy rune. And Sabina had surely deduced what Zoey's class was, at least in roundabout terms. The lewd nature of it. She

had

dragged home several bizarrely sexual alchemy regents. And Zoey's bulge—the fourteen inch monster—meant her other not-so-typical circumstances were on display, too.

So, Sabina knew where Zoey was going with the question. Indeed, by the sideways glance Sabina shot her, she

definitely

had. Not much got past her, where deduction was required.

Sabina sighed. She set the utensil she'd been cleaning aside, then dried her hands. "That's it. Follow me."

"Huh?"

"You've been asking similar questions constantly. Both today and this morning. So, let's sate your curiosity. Follow me."

"Huh?" she repeated, cheeks coloring. Like she'd figured, she'd been seen through in an instant. How embarrassing. "I was just—"

Sabina waved her hand, cutting Zoey off. "Follow me," she said for the third time.

Perplexed, Zoey dried off her hands and followed Sabina. The rest of the uncleaned equipment went forgotten, a distinctly

not

Sabina action. While her store was nearly in disrepair, her equipment she kept meticulous care of—as expected of a dedicated scientist.

She followed Sabina out of her laboratory, into the storefront, and through a different door, which led to a staircase. Sabina guided her up into her living quarters, which sat on top of the alchemy shop. Zoey hadn't ever been here. Obviously. She'd only known Sabina a few days, and been apprenticed to her for two, so of course she'd never been to Sabina's bedroom.

But still. What was going on? What did this have to do with Zoey's question?

Her bedroom wasn't in much better condition than her store. She didn't have a bedframe, even. A mattress laid on the floor, blanket tossed to the side. She had a single pillow. Piled next to the mattress was heaps of books, notebooks, and papers. A sloppy academic, the image of Sabina was reinforced for the hundredth time. Chalkboards were tucked to the side of the room, with hasty diagrams and cramped script she couldn't read, both because of how sloppy it was and by how quickly she was led through the room. Sabina guided her through in a few short seconds, ushering Zoey through a second doorway.

Inside, Zoey gaped.

The walls were painted a deep, sensual red, and the light inside the newest room was dim, with a pink hue. The lighting dimmed further, Sabina closing the door behind them. And the most shocking part: at the center, a metal table sat, adorned with straps at the feet, hands, and neck. A mirror hung from the ceiling, pointing down—so someone could sit in the chair and look at what was happening to them.

"Sit," Sabina said.

Zoey gaped at her.

"I don't like repeating myself," Sabina said.

Numbly, she did as told. She sat, the cold bite of the metal piercing even through her clothing. She rested her arms on either of the armrests, and Sabina walked to her side, deftly strapping them down. She let it happen.

She idly tested how strong they were. Tugging, she found her arms firmly locked in place.

What ... the hell?

What was happening? And why had she listened to Sabina's commands so automatically? Let herself be strapped down, with maybe a little

too

much trust?

Because she was, as a second test confirmed,

very

locked down.

This room. It didn't leave much up to interpretation. She looked around, stunned, at the furniture. A shelf was filled with sex toys, many of which Zoey couldn't identify. A metal rack was tucked in the corner, the sort of contraption a person would be tied up and hung from. All sorts of restraints and leather straps scattered the room. Zoey looked up, and in the ceiling-mirror's reflection, she saw her wide-eyed expression—and Sabina, snapping on a pair of clinical white gloves.