Adventurer
EXP: 5,298, Level: 3
Level completed: 8%,
EXP required for next Level: 3,702
When her rival’s sister appeared on her doorsteps one day with a large, golden puppy in tow, Arainthe Vardis thought she was seeing things.
“Fix him,” the other girl said, holding the cute, golden critter out towards Arainthe. There was desperation in the girl’s voice, and an edge of exhaustion in her visage.
“What?” Arainthe asked, dumbly. The puppy was trying to lick her face off.
The sound coming out of the other girl was guttural and full of frustration. Arainthe had never seen the composed Lydia Hruine like this before. Then again, she rarely saw Lydia Hruine at all. Out of the fear that her rival’s sister would blow up on her doorsteps, Arainthe invited both the girl and the puppy into her cottage.
---
“Tell me what happened?” she said, setting two cups of tea onto her only short table. Lydia had her only chair, so Arainthe sat herself on her bed. The puppy was having fun with her boots under the table.
“That’s Glorrad,” Lydia said, Her voice was half hysterical. “He messed up. And he’s been eating all my shoes. Fix him.”
Ah, Arainthe thought in utter incomprehension. Her rival was a puppy, Her rival was playing with her boots. Then she panicked, because these were her only pair of boots. Her eyes ducked beneath the table, and she congratulated herself for reinforcing her boots with magic. Much more durable, and much less susceptible to sorcerer-turned-puppies.
The puppy gave up on her shoe and came over to nuzzle Arainthe’s hands. It was kind of cute. Arainthe decided she liked her rival a little better this way.
“I can’t,” she said to Lydia.
“Why?”
A shrug. Arainthe drank her tea while the dog slobbered over her lap. “The stars aren’t in alignment.”
The noise Lydia made belied the other woman’s disbelief. Really, how often did Arainthe saw her rival’s family like this? Glorrad and her were rivals in sorcery-craft, but he had the backing of a clan of nobility, and she only had herself. They were usually at each other’s throats, and she was often the underdog when they got together. And then her rival turned into an actual dog.
“Fine,” Lydia finally spluttered, throwing her hands into the air. “Fine. But you get to deal with him. Until you feel like the stars are in alignment.”
With that, the other woman huffed her way out, shutting the cottage’s doors with a heavy slam.
---
Arainthe discovered what Lydia did not say the next morning. As a puppy, her rival was not house trained, and her beddings were in a great deal of danger.
Oh fuck.
Last edited by Rogue; 09-04-2017 at 10:23 PM.
