Zeroth Moment: My Cheat Skill Is Stupid, So I'll Just Ignore It

Topher took in a deep breath, held it as long as he dared, and let it out slowly. It'll be fine. We knew it would be something like this. This was the plan all along. He turned to the others. "Okay. Giant lava death land, got it. Now what? I'm assuming we don't just pick a direction and start walking."

"I can scout, Bailey-sama," Hana volunteered, looking a half-inch taller in the firelight; guess she unlocked some kind of self-confidence trait or something, Topher mused. "We may not have a destination yet, but we can at least see if anything useful is nearby."

"Alright, yeah." Topher knelt down and began rummaging in his bag for the gems Vashyarl had dropped. "I'll see if I can study these a little better. We'll all share what we've learned when you get back."

"I will go with you as well, Miss Shirakane," Rudo murmured, stepping up alongside her. "My Minor Wilderness Mastery Skill may be of some use here."

Hana nodded, then frowned. "But who will protect Bailey-sama? If a monster came along..."

Zanasha chuckled. "Leave it to me." Oh, I'd like to leave it to you, thought Topher sweatily, but he clamped his mouth shut and just nodded. The other two stealthily crept away; Topher pulled out the orbs and began to study them.

As it had the last time he'd examined it, Vashyarl's orb was shot through with millions of strands of multicolored light; despite the name, it bore no black in its composition, only transparent crystal stained with thousands of differing hues. He turned it this way and that, obscurely certain that there was something to discern here, but his Detect Status reported nothing other than what it had shown previously; eventually, he turned his attention to the other orb.

At first, Irineth's Magic Stone appeared to be a uniform indigo color; but as he concentrated and peered more closely, he could detect more threads like Vashyarl's, but all various shades of blue -- deep aqua, light cyan, and even threads of a deep violet so dark they were almost black. Almost like they got the names mixed up, Topher groused to himself. As with Vashyarl's, there was a distinct hint of a pattern when he viewed the threads, but he could make nothing of it; eventually, sighing, he put both the orbs away and concentrated on the Stone of Sustenance.

As he gripped it, he felt an echo of the strange sensation he'd felt upon waking from his healing trance with Kelfir -- a simultaneous lightness and heaviness in his body, as though he were somehow more and less real, somehow differently solid, than he had been before. He turned it back and forth, but unlike the others, it had no interior complexity; it was just a rock, imbued with some kind of enchantment that obviated the need for food and water. He could practically smell the specific runes which had been formed inside it -- a combination of Vum and Shoi translated through Palz into a curve which described some interesting geometry in Duthan-space -- but compared to the others, it was simple and straightforward.

Well, why shouldn't it be, he thought to himself sourly. This is a magic item, made for a specific purpose by some dude, where the others are probably some kind of gross fossil of an organic process. For all I know, each thread could be the turd their dinner would have made each day. Disgusted, he gathered the three stones together, amused himself extremely briefly by arranging them into a cock-and-balls shape, then prepared to --

"Is it an arcane art of some sort?" Zanasha's voice made him jump, and he accidentally sent all three of the stones flying; cursing, he growled out a quick Mage Hand variant and gathered them all back up telekinetically before they could fall in a lava pit or something. Dropping the stones back into his Magic Bag, he looked up at the half-orc, who was watching him curiously. "I know druids sometimes arrange stones into formations," she explained, looking alert but interested.

Topher coughed. I'm twelve years old and what is this, he thought to himself in embarrassment. "It's stupid. I was just frustrated." He leaned back, looking up at the unfamiliar red stars above. "I don't understand anything that's going on, as usual. Why is the sky different here? The redness I could see being from the fumes, but... how could the stars be different?"

Zanasha shrugged. "It has always been thus. My people have many tales and legends of this place; some say it is the original homeland of the demons. Others say it is where we go when we die; there are many caves and passages to it from all across the land, but they all lead to the same place. Whatever the cause, the tales are clear -- different rules apply here." She stretched; Topher looked away to prevent himself from ogling her taut, muscular body. "But that is not what we should be discussing."

Topher raised an eyebrow. "Oh yeah? And what, pray tell, should we be discussing?" His traitor heart began to pound in his chest, and not entirely due to her proximity.

Zanasha leaned closer; Topher's heartbeat accelerated further as her clear, golden eyes stared into his own. "What Muchenje-san said, in ICEBREAKERS. You pursue the affections of the woman you love."

I am going to have a fucking heart attack, Topher observed dispassionately; his pulse was almost drowning out her speech. "Um," he asserted with as much intelligence as he could muster. Jesus Christ, this is really happening. "You've, uh... you've known that for a couple of weeks now. Why..."

"Why do I bring it up now?" the half-orc guessed, looking around. "We are alone for the first time since that moment, Friend Topher. And there are things..." -- she looked away shyly -- "...that you should hear. Things that you should know."

Topher was sweating buckets; he wished powerfully that the black rock beneath him would open up and deliver him into the blessed magmatic release of death. "Y-yeah? Like what?"

Zanasha's gaze came back to Topher's, magnetically. "You must tell the woman of your affections how you feel, and soon. Our peril will only grow more great as our journey continues; demise may come for any of us at any time." Her breath was coming slightly faster now, as though she was struggling through the conversation.

"Uh huh." Topher trembled, very slightly; his hand, unconsciously, began to slide forward across the top of his knee a fraction of an inch before he caught himself. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, then opened them and gazed back into Zanasha's. "And then what?"

The half-orc blinked; Topher felt his heart quiver inside him. "Mayhap..." she looked away, abruptly shy again. "Mayhap... for whatever time remains, you could..."

"I could get us all killed," Topher groaned out, feeling like he was driving a knife into his own guts. "If... the person... I care about doesn't feel the same way about me, then I just made them uncomfortable and weakened the trust between us." He crossed his arms to protect his aching dung-beetle heart. "And the trust in our little group is already a little strained after the whole secret assassin event."

Zanasha looked shocked and slightly hurt; she dropped her own gaze as well. "Friend Topher, I know you wish to protect..." -- she swallowed -- "...to protect us all." She met his eyes again. "But you were the one who spoke for Hana-chan, even when I was ready to..." she trailed off, looking abashed. "You have already shown much faith. Can you not...?"

Topher shook his head; he felt bile reaching the back of his throat. "It's not about faith." He covered his mouth with his hand, steeling his will to prevent himself from wailing, then swallowed and soldiered on. "Besides," he continued, sweeping a hand towards himself, "I'm not stupid. I know what I look like. The woman I'm in love with..." he ran down, his throat closing up. Is you, obviously. And you could do so much better than me.

Zanasha was still looking away; she shook her own head. "Sometimes," she said, very quietly, "women like men who remind them of their fathers." Topher's gaze blurred as unshed tears threatened to pour down his cheeks and into his beard, but luckily he was able to blink them away before she looked back. "Love is a leap of courage, Friend Topher. And I know that you are braver than most." She reached out and gently patted his hand; Topher felt the jolt of her touch surge through him and moaned silently to himself with tormented longing as the half-orc rose to her feet and turned away. "Some things I cannot say myself, but..." she sighed. "You saw how she behaved when you returned from the brink of death; surely you cannot think her embrace was a thoughtless act."

His guts writhed within him; he choked with astonished horror. Jesus Fuck. She thinks... "That's not...," he croaked, inarticulate, but it was all he could manage. Not her, goddammit, you. I'm in love with you! But the cold, rational logic of the situation had not changed; he could not confess to clear up her misconception any more than he could have facing the terror of her rejection. He was caught, impaled and writhing in agony, on the hook of his convictions; there was a future, however slim, in which Topher Bailey could believe he was worthy of a woman's love, but that was the emphemeral land of maybes and this was the burning instant of now. Like vomiting bile, he forced the traitorous words past his lips. "It doesn't change anything."

Sick with hurt, he watched wretchedly as she absorbed his words; took the venomous and unspoken lie to her heart and nodded stoically. "For now. But the choice remains yours to make." She paused for a long moment, then overcame some inner resistance and continued. "If you ever wish to talk..."

"Totally," Topher muttered brokenly. He watched, feeling hollow and exsanguinated, as she walked away a few paces and watched the pyroclastic horizon. Her hair floated on a sudden hot breeze, and he clenched his fists so hard that his nails bit into his palms to prevent himself reaching out to her. "There's nobody I'd rather talk to."

And then, with total disregard for the romantic tension of the situation, the firewyrm attacked.

It came out of the darkness with no warning whatsoever; one moment, Topher was enraptured and tormented by the object of his desire, and the next he was staring up into a black maw of ebon fangs illuminated from within by the glow of incipient firebreath. With an embarrassing squawk, he snapped out his Stylus and just barely managed to throw up a Shield of Faith; at the last moment, he remembered to angle it away from both of them to deflect the fire to one side the way he had with Vashyarl. The firewyrm vomited a gout of luminous liquid -- magma? napalm? -- that struck and splashed off the shield, fountaining ruinously over the stone to Topher's right with a mixture of hissing and splattering sounds; Topher spun his Stylus and tried frantically to think of his best attack option as the great black beast wheeled overhead, fading into the darkness. Magic Dart? No, too weak. Fleet Zephyr? No, I don't want to catch Zanasha in the blast if she moves in front of me. Damn it! Cursing, he summoned a Mage Light and sent it darting overhead, chasing the beast at the speed of his thought as he caught glimpses of its ebon scales and vast black wings in the darkness. "It's hard to see. I --"

"Friend Topher." Zanasha's smile was sharp and violent; Nethersbane was in her hand, glowing with magenta radiance. He blinked. When did it change color? "You do not have to do everything yourself." Turning her back on him, she whispered activating words to her sword; its light burgeoned and blossomed as she took a poised stance on the balls of her feet. Overhead, the dragon wheeled and came back around for another pass; Topher flinched, scrambling to --

With a wordless shout, Zanasha abruptly ceased to be nearby and was suddenly two hundred feet away, a jagged and pulsating trail of light in her wake as her blade swept up and over to hang for a split second above the firewyrm's five-foot-thick armored neck. Then, with a sound like breaking glass, the blade carried her back to earth as she executed another Nether Strike, the path of its swing passing directly through the beast's flesh and bone as she landed directly in front of Topher. He gaped, awed and very attracted, as the half-orc arose from her half-crouch and flourished her blade; the firewyrm's decapitated corpse crashed to earth behind her with a thunderous impact.

"Until now," Zanasha stated calmly, as though nothing untoward had happened, "you have carried us. But with this..." -- she glanced down to the Bracer of Sacred Blood on her wrist -- "...I am not so weak anymore." She met his eyes, and he was staggered by the complexity and strength of character they communicated -- powerful and afraid, honest and vulnerable, aware and resigned. "I am a Fighter. I can fight." Her voice dropped to a hoarse plea. "Let me fight!"

Topher sighed. "You don't get it. It's not just me." He felt that he owed her this, so he cleared his throat and gathered his will. "I'll tell you the same thing I told Hana." With difficulty, he raised his eyes to meet her gaze. She's so tall. We're almost exactly the same height. "I'm not special. You think we could have beaten Vashyarl if you didn't give it everything you had just to keep us alive long enough to find an opening?" He took a step forward, and to his shock, she gave ground before him, her golden eyes widening in surprise and something else he couldn't identify. He felt his blood quickening and forced the rest of the words out before he could lose his nerve. "You. Hana. Rudo. Me. We're all holding each other up. You have never been weak." Reaching out, he tapped her Bracer of Sacred Blood. "This is a tool, just like your sword. Doesn't mean it's not useful; you can't dig a hole without a shovel. I couldn't do shit without my Stylus; Hana needs her Flux Blade. But you can't tell me you couldn't kick ten kinds of ass with a stick instead of a sword. You're what's special." He held her gaze, trembling inside; he couldn't tell her the truth, but he could tell her this. I love you. Stop thinking you're not awesome.

She stared back at him for a moment, then huffed in a breath and dropped her gaze; cleaning her sword, she sheathed it and shook her head. "I am sorry. I have been foolish. You are..." She turned away, then looked back at him; he was astonished to see the glimmer of unshed tears in her eyes, but her smile was bright and radiant with no trace of its usual self-deprecation. "I will try."

Topher nodded and sighed. "That's the secret, Zanasha. We're all just trying." Unable to hold it together any longer, he turned away and pretended to study his Ledger; behind him, he could hear ash and rock crunching under her boots as she stalked towards the corpse of the firewyrm to loot it. Some of us just have a little less to work with.