Edge Cases

For all that she'd been looking forward to this moment — for all that she'd had trouble even sleeping in her anticipation, checking both her system messages and the view outside the window in case she could spot the villagers arriving — Misa found that she was still undeniably nervous.

It hadn't taken her particularly long to find the villagers when she'd woken up. Her inability to sleep had cost her; she'd fallen asleep late in the night, or in the early hours of the morning, depending on how one looked at it. By the time she'd woken up, blinking the sunlight out of her eyes, it was a solid hour past noon.

Meaning she'd missed not only her village arriving, but also the time they spent setting up a temporary camp. The Guildmaster had been kind enough to leave her a message; apparently, her parents and the other villagers were having trouble with the system, and couldn't send her any messages personally. But they wanted her to know that they loved her, and that they were looking forward to seeing her when she had the time.

Misa could read between the lines there, of course. She could practically hear her mother saying 'get down here as soon as possible, young woman', and she couldn't help the stupid little grin that overcame her.

But now, standing outside the tent that her parents were in... she found herself strangely nervous. Anxious. She found herself pacing in front of the tent, her mind inundated with inane questions she hadn't cared about before. When she'd met them in the dungeon, there was this idea in her mind that it would be her last time seeing them — that the dungeon had given her a gift and a curse all at once, by offering her that last opportunity.

Now... well, she had her parents back. She'd dreamed about that, once upon a time. She had her whole village back, and even at the worst of the denial stages of her grief she hadn't dared to hope that that might happen.

And Misa found she didn't really know what to do with that.

The threat of the system should have been the first thing on her mind; the idea of the anchor degrading, and taking her village with it. But the threat seemed so far away at the moment, and her parents were right in front of her — well, behind the flap of the tent...

Charise poked her head out of the door and scowled at her. There was no heat in the scowl at all. "Get in here already. I can feel you pacing from in here."

And just like that, the tension broke.

Misa grinned back at her mother. "Mother's intuition, or [Mother's Intuition]?"

"That joke would work better if I actually had that skill," her mother said, smiling at her. She stepped fully through the folds of the tent and embraced her daughter in a hug.

For a moment, Misa felt like a child again. It was a little strange — her mother was shorter than she was, now, and she couldn't bury her face in the folds of her mother's clothes like she had once upon a time. But Charise was somehow just as strong as she remembered, and the hug was...

...well, the hug was everything she'd wished for, when she'd first lost her. It felt like a lifetime ago, now.

"Hi, mom," she said softly, and though she couldn't see Charise smile, she could somehow feel it.

"It's good to see you again, Misa," her mother said warmly, and then took her by a hand, gently leading her into the tent. "Let's go see your father, shall we? He's waiting for you, too. He's just too stubborn to come outside, the old fool."

Misa choked back a laugh, following her mother into the tent. "Sounds like him," she agreed.

She fell silent as the folds of the tent parted, and she saw what had been constructed inside.

The tent was nothing like their old home, of course. It was far too small, as large as they'd tried to make it for Orkas and Charise, and the walls were made of fabric instead of brick. And yet for all that it was different, there was an aching sense of familiarity within it.

Orkas and Charise had made all the furniture in their house by hand. It was an orcish tradition that a marriage would be consummated by the new couple building their new home together, to symbolize their entrance into a new life. System skills from the village builders had helped construct the walls and floors, but every piece of furniture had been lovingly crafted without the help of skills.

Here, there obviously hadn't been the time for that. And yet...

The table was just like their old table, down to all the little imperfections from inexperienced hands. Even the grain of the wood was the same; beautiful swirls coalescing in the center of the table. One of the chairs had a slightly crooked back, just like she remembered. In every chair there was a little carving of two birds, the symbol that her parents had chosen to symbolize their marriage.

"How?" Misa asked softly, her voice thick with emotion.

It was Orkas that answered. "Your Guildmaster, believe it or not," the orc said. He smiled at her, a kind smile that she barely remembered anymore, and stepped forward to pull her into a hug; she felt herself melt into the embrace just as much as she'd melted into her mother's.

"She did all this?" Misa asked, her voice muffled.

"No," Orkas said with a deep belly-laugh. "She'd be a terrifying woman if she could do all this on top of what she can already do. No, she pulled some strings and asked one of her adventurers to do it. A bard, I believe."

"A bard did all this?" Misa couldn't keep the astonishment out of her voice, and Orkas grinned at her, pulling back from the hug.

"Knew that would catch your attention. It's a common skill, too, can you believe it?" he said.

"There's no way this is a common skill," Misa protested.

"Well, he wasn't the only one that helped," Orkas said with a grin — he was clearly enjoying himself, and by the way her mother was smirking slightly, she was enjoying it, too. "I'll be honest, I didn't pay attention to what other skills he used. He had a friend with him, too."

"Dad," Misa groaned. Her father had done this to her all too many times before, knowing her old fixation with figuring out the limits of every skill.

"The skill he used was [Song of Memory]," Orkas said. He busied himself by going over to a sort of makeshift kitchen and starting to prepare tea. "Makes an illusion of a chosen memory, as long as the recipient is willing to share it. Played some very pretty music, too."

It was almost strange, to interact with her father like this again. When he was in charge of the village — when he didn't have his memories of her, and she'd been a stranger... he'd been so much more rough. She wasn't sure how much of that was simply because she'd been a stranger, and how much of that was because he'd lived a different life.

"I'm glad you're back," she said more quietly.

Orkas paused. When he spoke again, his voice was a little rougher. "Glad I got to see you grow up, kid," he said. "Not that you weren't grown up already."

"Sit down," her mother suggested, patting the seat beside her at the table. Misa sat herself down, feeling oddly self-conscious. She had so many questions she wanted to ask — but she also had so many things she wanted to share, so many pieces of her life she could show them that she never thought she'd be able to...

"You have plenty of time," her mother told her, smiling at her like she knew exactly what she'd been thinking — and she probably did.

So she took her time. She thought about where she wanted to start. She'd already spoken to one version of her mother about many of the things she'd wanted to share, but she hadn't yet told Orkas about them; not about how she'd met her current team, about the trust they'd built together.

And that was where she started.

There was a lot to tell from the time before that, too — the time she'd lost herself in her grief, and her anger was the only thing that drove her. But that was something she could save for another time. It didn't feel right, somehow, to talk about this now. This was supposed to be a celebration.

Eventually, while she was reminiscing, talking about all the times she and her friends had saved one another, about how one of them had been rather terrible at hiding who he was and another struggled not to sass everything in sight — her mother had interrupted her there, questioning if it wasn't her that sassed everything in sight — her father joined them both at the table. He gave them both glasses of hot tea, and they spoke in warm tones, Misa's parents commenting on all her adventures and misadventures...

Before she knew it, an hour had passed, and then two. The conversation trickled to a slow, more comfortable rhythm, and then Misa remembered to bring up her new skill before she forgot.

"[An Anchor of Heart and Home], huh?" Charise said, frowning slightly. "[Intuition of Truth] isn't telling me much about it. I get the impression that you're right, and that's what saved you when we were first..."

Charise grimaced slightly at the memory, and Orkas put a hand on her shoulder, though he, too, looked grim. "It is something that bears testing," he said seriously. "But give us some time to make sure that the village is prepared, and to speak with your Guildmaster for any insight she may have on a way to safely test the passive part of the skill."

"Tomorrow, then?" Misa asked.

"What? No. We will test it as soon as possible," Orkas said with a snort. "Who's to know what may happen if we wait. I will contact the Guildmaster to send someone suitable for supervising a spar, and a healer — perhaps your own, if he is available. And in the meantime, perhaps we can test the active portion of your skill."

"I have a skill evolution available, too, for [To Fall Yet Hold the Line]," Misa said with a frown. "I haven't accepted that yet. The skill itself is so useful that I'm worried the evolution will take something away from it."

"It won't," Charise spoke with confidence, and Misa blinked at her mother.

"Are you... sure?"

"Completely, yes," Charise said.

Slowly, Misa nodded. Intuition was a weird skill.

"Don't accept it yet, still," Orkas said. "In case there's yet another system glitch, or it modifies the behavior of [An Anchor of Heart and Home]. One thing at a time. Can you try to activate the active side of the skill?"

"Sure," Misa said, and almost immediately frowned.

The skill wouldn't budge when she tried to use it the way she used all her other skills. There was a sense she was getting from it, like she was in the wrong... place?

"I don't think I can use it while I'm in the village?" she said with some uncertainty.

"Then let's go outside," Orkas said. He checked his system messages, and made a grunt of satisfaction. "The Guildmaster is sending an agent, so we can test the passive part right afterwards."

"That was quick," Misa blinked.

"She's efficient," Charise said cheerfully. "C'mon. Let's see what this skill of yours does."