Sokeefe Oneshots

Matchmaking

Matchmaking. One of my biggest problems. Yes, it is a bigger problem than the Neverseen was. At least when fighting the Neverseen, I was a hero to elves. Well, a hero in the eyes of the elves I cared about, anyway.

But with matchmaking? I'm a coward. I'm a coward for being too scared to move on from human traditions to Elvin traditions, too scared to even enter my matchmaking packet. Too scared of being a bad match.

I flipped through the matchmaking packet that I had just picked up. I wouldn't be unmatchable this time. Mr Forkle felt bad about my situation, and had bargained with the Matchmakers.

Basically, I would fill my packet and get a list of suitors if I registered, but I would be a bad match. The list of suitors would be based entirely on how we interacted, and if our personalities complimented each other. Though, on the bright side, being a bad match was more common than being unmatchable.

Unmatchable. Bad match. Those words replaced the Neverseen in my nightmares, and I can assure you that is not an improvement.

I sighed, placing the packet at the far corner of my desk. I carefully placed it so that a stack of books was blocking it from view. I told myself I would fill it in later, when I didn't feel like throwing up. Procrastinating was officially my new best friend!

I slowly stood up from my desk, standing to scan my room with shaky knees. 'What to do, what to do?' I wondered. Everything seemed so boring and empty after the war. What was the point of anything, if I was going to live forever?

My bodyguards had all returned to their homes when the Neverseen proved to no longer be a threat. Well, all except Flori and Sandor. However, they were much more lenient than they were before, and it felt weird.

Sandor and Flori now preferred to stay hidden from view, so as to give me a chance to feel comfortable without them. A few years from now, they wouldn't have to do this job anymore. But I was still required to have at least 2 bodyguards by the council, so they were staying, for now.

The war with the Neverseen had not only left me with physical scars, but mental ones, too. There were so many losses, so many sacrifices, and I was still in the midst of debating whether it was all worth it. What would have happened if the Neverseen had won? Would less people be dead?

I needed to distract myself, before the guilt could sink in. Before I could shatter and break. But how would I distract myself?

An image of an elf immediately came to me. A familiar elf, whom I trusted with my life; a broken, sweet boy who had made too many sacrifices.

Someone who had always stayed by my side through thick and thin. I smiled, remembering all our memories together. Maybe it was time we made more memories; ones with no sign of war in them.

I pulled out my imparter and hailed him. "K-Keefe?" I stammered as he answered. It was weird. My voice sounded unfamiliar and strange. His face popped up, staring at me with wide eyes.

"Foster? Are you okay? The whole week after we defeated the ... the Neverseen, you haven't talked to any of us!" He exclaimed. He stumbled on the word 'Neverseen'.

"Yeah. And every time he called you did that stupid comforting thing and said you were fine," Ro commented, probably painting her nails in the background.

She must've seen my shocked expression, and added, "Yeah, I'm still here. I'm not moving back to  Ravagog until Lord Funkyhair does something." Ro heavily emphasised the word 'something', glaring at Keefe as she said it.

I raised an eyebrow, but decided not to pry. It was probably part of another one of their bets or something.

"Sorry, Keefe. I just needed some time to think." I mumbled. I didn't dare to meet his eyes, even when it was just through an imparter. Silence.