(18) - A City in the Mouth -

53 7 3
                                    


ABBY WAS NOT excited, she told herself. 

Visiting Triad was solely to meet with the Wizard, and use his connections to help track down the Dawn Stag. That was it. It was not the time to fawn over the Wizard, or ask for advice on how to cultivate plants that didn't have a proclivity for wheezing, oozing, retching, or sneezing.

It was not the time to tour the Acadium, or buy up the entirety of the gift shop's stock, or study the curriculum and slip an admissions form from the office into her pocket, one she could fill out when she was eligible to apply. 

No, the point of their tram trip in the first place was to discover the Dawn Stag's location and return it to the sky, saving all the realms and magick in the process. 

She shifted in her seat, unable to control the nervous energy rolling through her, causing her toes to wiggle and her fingers to shake. The tram bounced along the track, it curving with the Mirean coastline. A welcomed gust of sea air blew through the compartment's open window, blowing wisps of hair into her eyes. Outside, emerald long grass swayed in dappled sunlight. Ean had long since disappeared behind them, its ever-present shroud of smog left within the city's limits. 

Abby breathed out, pushing the hair from her eyes. Her chest squeezed, sweat dripping down her neck. But she was not excited, just nervous. It was her first trip to Triad, after all, and the capital was known for its opulence, it's many wards tailor-made for the nobility of the royal court. She was sure her outfit wouldn't fit - it was too simple, a basic cotton tunic with three-quarter length sleeves, and dark trousers. It lacked any intricate stitching or fancy lace trim, or elaborate embellishments. 

Not that those things measured luxury. Lucy and Axion's outfits drowned in sea glass garland and polished buttons, and were made of dyed silks. But they were gaudy at best. The sleeves on Axion's shirt were too puffy, his collar starched to his ears. Lucy's trousers were too pleated, and boasted a mis-matched collection of belts. They were both certainly channeling something, just not style, at least none Abby was aware of. 

She wrung her hands together, her lips pressed. She shifted again.

"Love?" Lucy leaned back on the bench seat, his fingers squeezing one of the cushion's many lumps. "You okay?"

Abby nodded. No, absolutely not. "Yep," she said, her voice so high it cracked. "I'm--" 

Something fell out of her pocket. She froze, Lucy bending forward to pick her book off the floor. Her face ignited. 

So much for pretending she wasn't excited.

A sigh escaped her as Lucy's eyes scanned the front cover. "The Wizard Kellog's ABCs for Perfecting the Craft?" His mouth lilted into a grin at the same pace Abby's slid into a frown. Often they were at their most in sync when she was her most mortified. She covered her head with her hands, unable to look Lucy in the eyes. 

He traced a finger over the book's well-worn spine and edges, rounded from years of use. 

"Wh-what?" she said defensively. She struck out an arm with every intention of retrieving her book, shoving it back into her pocket, and forgetting the incident had ever occurred. Lucy, still tapped in to his Aelurian reflexes, easily batted her hand away. Knowing him, he was not going to let her live this down, after she had insisted she would focus on the task at hand. 

The Dawn Stag. Saving the Eridan. Restoring magick. 

But the temptation had been too great to resist. The Wizard Kellog had been her hero since childhood. One autograph surely wasn't that big of a deal.

Abbernathy and Magick's End |Trilogy Now Complete!Where stories live. Discover now