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The day after the Recluse’s trip, I heard a sharp knock on the Spire’s door.
After he’d fallen asleep on his couch, I’d placed a blanket gently over him and left him a note that simply read Back at my Spire, then returned quickly to said Spire before my emotions got the best of me. I’d rested a little, done a bit of work, tinkered with one of my recent spells, and through all of that, longed for the Recluse’s presence.
I had never in my long, long life felt something like this—but having felt it for the Recluse for a good amount of time, I was slightly used to the pathetic part of me that constantly wished for his presence, and a lot better at controlling it so I didn’t bother him too much and drive him away. Witches knew accidentally ruining our fragile relationship like I nearly already had was the last thing I wanted to do!
Dawn came, and then noon, and I stayed holed up in my Spire. I wasn’t hosting any lectures today, so I had the entire day to do whatever I wanted—which was, evidently, lounging in my bed with a book and pining after the Recluse.
Eventually (read: half an hour after attempting to sit down and read), I got sick of sitting around, and slotting the book back onto its place on my shelf, I found myself some fabrics and began absentmindedly stitching together some sort of plushie while mulling over the events of the past couple of days. Plushies were small, fun to make, and pleased the townspeople when I gave them out, so I’d taken to making them in my free time. I had given one depicting a small version of myself to the Recluse, even, at some point, though I hadn’t seen it after the day I’d given it to him.
When I made these plushies, muscle memory guided my fingertips, so when the two mismatched buttons were stitched onto the plush’s tan face, I blinked in surprise and looked my work over. It was immaculate—as always—but instead of the usual animals or otherwise (who knew the townspeople liked plushies of inanimate objects as well? Not me, until someone had shyly requested a cactus plush for whatever reason), the little thing was a perfect replica of the Recluse.
Oh, Witches, I thought, shaking my head in disappointment at myself and staring down at the little thing, hardly larger than my hand. I’ve become so smitten I’ve made a plushie in his image…
Before I could even put my sewing materials away, I heard the muffled vvuuuuuoop of a portal opening somewhere in the Spire, and shot up from my bed, levitation activating in an instant as I hurried out of my room to find the intrusion. (Of course, the Recluse was the only Cookie in the area I knew of that could use a portal such as that, so I couldn’t truly consider it an intrusion.) Heart skipping with my steps as I “landed” again on the third or fourth floor of the Spire, I began to search for the source of the noise.
The next corner I turned, I nearly ran straight into the Recluse, who was hurrying down the halls of the Spire in the opposite direction as I. Crying out, I stumbled backwards so as not to hit him, and regaining my balance against the wall, I looked up at him and said brightly, “Hi, Recluse!”
“Hello, Sage,” he replied, nodding. He looked a lot more composed than the day before, hair smooth and untangled and cloak placed neatly across his shoulders, and I resisted the urge to mess with either one of those things. “You have quite a large library. I nearly got lost.”
I chuckled. “You’d have to specify which one you’re speaking of, dear! There are five libraries in the Spire, and two of them are near here—though the only one that moves on its own is the—”
“What’ve you got in your hand?” the Recluse interrupted, brow furrowed slightly as he gestured towards my left hand.
A little confused, I brought the hand up to my face—and realized I was still holding the little Recluse plushie, its button eyes glinting in the light of the Spire’s windows and its stitched-on frown as grumpy as ever.
Before I could hide the plushie, or explain myself, or apologize profusely, the Recluse took the little thing, looking it over with an expression I couldn’t deduce. “It’s…” he said. “It’s a little… me?”
“Um,” I said intelligently. “Yes, it’s—I just—...”
“Surprisingly well-made,” murmured the Recluse, cradling the mini-him gently in his hands. I watched with shock as he placed it on one of the bookshelves nearby, then stuck his right hand into the opposite sleeve of his robe and pulled something out of it. “Just one thing.”
My jaw dropped as he tugged the plushie I’d given him—you know, the one depicting yours truly! The one I thought he’d thrown away!—out of his sleeve and set it next to the mini-Recluse.
I was speechless. This was not how I’d expected my day to go, but… here he was, setting plushies of us next to each other. He hadn’t made a single remark on the fact I had a plush of him at all, nor on the fact that he still had the one I’d made for him!
“Wait a moment,” the Recluse muttered, interrupting my thoughts. I noticed he was hovering a hand over the mini-Recluse, giving me a questioning look. “Something’s wrong. Can I…?”
Ah. There it was. I knew he’d end up insulting it eventually. “Go ahead,” I sighed, rubbing my temples.
Pale gold magic flickered around his fingers, and closing his eyes, he placed his hand atop the mini-Recluse. When he removed it, I didn’t immediately see anything different—but upon giving it a closer look, I noticed that the plushie’s frown had been transformed into a smile, matching the mini-me next to it.
I looked between the Recluse and the plushies, blinking rapidly, unsure of what to say. I didn’t have to say anything, apparently—the Recluse smiled, that soft little thing so unlike his usual dry smirks, and handed me the mini-Recluse from the bookshelf. “Here. Mini-me—” and he took the other plush off the shelf, holding it in his own hands— “and mini-you.”
I couldn’t help it. I tilted forwards and tackled the Recluse into a hug.
The Recluse left soon after (though he had hugged me back, and it had been marvelous), muttering something about having to get something from town. He did claim he might return later, but I didn’t expect it to actually happen, so I returned to my plush-making, this time paying attention so I wouldn’t end up making any more mini-Recluses. (The one I had made stayed with me, however, whether that be sitting on my lap while I sewed together another plush or perched on a shelf while I looked for a sewing book I knew I had somewhere for the millionth time.)
Surprisingly, when I was in the first-floor kitchen perfecting a jellyberry stew recipe one of the townspeople had brought to me, I heard a knock on the door, and upon focusing for even a second on the pulse of my Soul-Jam I could tell that it was the Recluse, standing outside. Why he hadn’t just portaled inside was beyond me, but I digressed and huried to answer the door.
“Sage,” he greeted, dipping his head to me—but I hardly heard him.
“Oh my Witches you’re wearing pants,” I blurted.
He blinked a few times, fidgeting with his staff. He held this in one hand, while the other was folded neatly behind his back. “Um. Yes,” he muttered quietly, then even softer, “They don’t look terrible, do they…?”
I shook my head rapidly, taking in the rest of his outfit with wide eyes. First, there was the capelet—reaching about to his elbows, it was black, adorned with a similar golden pattern to his usual cloak and clasped with a simple button near his heart. Under that was a dark dress shirt, ruffled slightly at the sleeves, and tucked into the pair of black pants I’d immediately noticed. All in all, he looked incredibly different, incredibly put-together, and incredibly handsome.
“No—no, not at all!” I stammered in response to his question, putting a hand to my face and pretending like I had thought about the action by quickly pushing my bangs out of the way. “Quite the opposite, you look lovely—what’s the occasion?!”
“Uh, well—I’m—um,” the Recluse tried, flushing red. “I was—there’s—uh.”
…Okay, weird. First he was dressed up, and now he was stuttering and blushing? The Recluse never did any of those things. “My dear, what’s going on—?”
“—Come into town with me tonight, I’ll be in the square at sundown,” he blurted, thrusting something into my hands. Immediately after spitting the words out, he stamped his staff into the ground, and then, with a bolt of white-gold magic, he was gone.
I blinked down at the thing in my hands, eyes wide, then up at where he’d just been—then did a double-take of what was in my hands.
Flowers.
Flowers????
Real, live, perfectly-arranged flowers???????
Realizing I had not been breathing for the past few seconds, I sucked in some air, trying to calm my racing heart as I stared down at the gift. My first thought was this has to be a mistake. The Recluse did not give the Sage of Truth flowers. This was not a thing he did—being the Sage of Truth, I would know!—and it was not a thing he would ever do!
…Come to think of it, I recognized these flowers from somewhere. I couldn’t pin the types of flowers immediately—which was strange, considering I quite literally knew near every type of flower in Crispia and Ghost-Yeast alike—but I had seen these before. Just… where?
“And these?” I waved a hand at the row of pots shoved against the back wall of the strange cave. Each one was damaged and discoloured, and some were broken entirely—but each one still harbored a blossom of some kind, unfamiliar and shocking to see in the general monotony of the cave.
“...They are from… long ago.” The Recluse looked away, staring out of the mouth of the cave. “I keep them out of pity.”
“Do you keep me out of pity?” I blurted, not really thinking.
“I could ask you the same thing,” he retorted.
Right. Of course—these were those flowers he’d been growing in his basement-cave-thing! I knew I’d seen them somewhere!
Do you keep me out of pity?
I brushed my fingertips along each flower. Maybe these were answering that ridiculous question I’d asked so long ago—maybe they were saying no, Blueberry Milk Cookie, I don’t only let you stay out of pity. I spend time with you because I care about you, and you make me happy.
…Oh, who am I kidding? Flowers can’t talk that much, even through metaphors! Ha. Ridiculous Blueberry Milk. Get yourself together.
I shook the thoughts off, tilting my face up to the sun and lifting my shoulders. Even though they probably hadn’t meant anything, they were a beautiful gift, and from none other but the Recluse himself! There was no reason for me to get myself down about this!
Especially since he’d also asked me to come into town with him tonight, I reminded myself, turning around and hurrying back into my Spire with a giddy chuckle and a flick of my tail. The Recluse had asked me to come into town with him.
Cheerfully setting the flowers in a vase summoned from my Other-Realm, I carried them up to my room and placed them on my bedside table. Pleased, I gently patted the flowers as one would a small animal and gave them one last glance-over before hurrying back to the kitchen—I’d almost forgotten about the jellyberry stew, after all, and I’d have hated to clean up another kitchen accident after the recent incident when I’d tried to teach one of the townspeople.
Once that was done, however, I abandoned whatever other tasks I had set out to do today in favour of getting ready for whatever the Recluse was inviting me to. If his outfit when he’d showed up at the Spire was anything to go by, this would require something fancier than what I normally wore—which would be a stretch to attempt, especially since the Cookies in town would notice me even more than usual—but I was prepared for that. Cookies were going to notice either way—especially if the Recluse was with me.
Flicking my wrist, I ripped open space-time and flung myself into a different area of the Spire, tumbling out into the room I saved specifically for all the outfits I made for myself. Knowing how to sew hadn’t just been useful for the plushies—I could also create all the clothes I wanted to wear instead of simply making them out of magic like I had as the Fount of Knowledge.
I rifled through several shirts first, choosing a pale blue one that looked almost white with wide, ruffled sleeves like the one the Recluse had been wearing earlier. This one had been what I originally wore under my blue vest before deciding it would be too annoying to deal with all the time—but it was perfect for an occasion like this.
Deciding to stick with my usual blue-gold-and-white colours, I changed into the shirt and found a deeper blue vest than what I usually wore, with golden star-shaped buttons and intricate stitching around where my Soul-Jam would be pinned, along with the coattails I usually left out of my daily attire. Then, a touch of glitter was applied to my face, my hair was braided intricately, and my hat was perched atop my head—and I was ready.
…Several hours before sundown.
Meh, it was fine! I could accessorize for a while (golden bracelets, necklaces, chains attached to my belt loops), make some new designs for my plushies (ten different versions of the same gummy lizard), and even ponder on some recent developments in town (the Recluse).
Hey. Wait. That last one wasn’t—no, I had been thinking about the Blueberry Yoghurt Public School and all the Cookies who had bothered me in town, not the Recluse! I was going to try and take over a few of the school’s workings so they wouldn’t do so again! I was—
—very much still thinking about the Recluse instead of the school.
I groaned and peered out the nearest window. Two and a half hours until sundown. I’d be fine.
I adjusted my coattails for a while. I put together a bouquet of milkcrowns and vanilla beholders for fun. I ran around the bottom floors of the Spire, assisting Cookies with the libraries and the like to crumble time. It was ridiculously boring. I wished I could just hurry up the sunset somehow!
After an amount of time that felt like I was waiting for my court to make a decision as the Fount, I finally noticed gold and pink creeping into the sky, and gasping excitedly, I unlatched the nearest window and flew down to the edge of town, holding the bouquet (okay, maybe it wasn’t made just for fun) in one hand and my staff in the other. As soon as they noticed me, any townspeople around would immedately have some kind of reaction: whether it be shock, admiration, confusion, or interest, they all watched me as I made my way towards the square.
Some of them approached me. “Sage, what’s with the outfit?” they’d ask. “Sage, why are you so excited?” “Sage, can you make me clothes like that?!” For once, I didn’t stop to answer their questions. I was too focused on my goal—making it to the square.
I sped up until I was running, magic cushioning me from the ground so I didn’t shatter my dough on impact and coattails flying out behind me, and with excitement pounding through my veins I dashed into the square, skidding to a stop in the very centre and looking around for the Recluse.
Upon my arrival, many of the Cookies in the square all looked away from what they were doing at me. Several gasps followed, along with several shouts of greeting and, every once in a while, another question. Most of the Cookies seemed to realize I was quite busy, though, and simply resorted to whispering, the constant low noises grating across my ears as I searched.
He wasn’t there. That was fine! He was probably on his way right now, I reasoned. Maybe he was a little late. I could wait, though! I was a very patient man!
I paced in the center of the square for several minutes. The sunset’s light painted itself across the cobbled ground. Cookies moved quickly between stands, laughing or talking or arguing or whatever else they did. A cart or two rolled across, pulled by slow-plodding biscuit horses. As the world turned as it always would, I stood there, staring anxiously at the path opposite the way I’d come, waiting for the Recluse’s arrival.
The first doubt planted itself early.
Maybe you misunderstood something about his invitation, it whispered, a little flickering worry in my chest. I fought it. He’d said it quite clearly, I told myself, wringing out my hands, and there hadn’t been any question of what it had been!
But what if there was?
I shook my head, laughing slightly under my breath and smoothing out the front of my vest. The Recluse wouldn’t go to all that trouble to dress up and bring me flowers for nothing.
I stopped pacing, standing still as the Cookies talked, and the biscuit horses dragged their hooves across the cobblestones, and the sun dipped further behind the mountains. I stared down the road. I waited.
Come into town with me tonight, I’ll be in the square at sundown. I repeated the Recluse’s words over and over in my head, picking apart the way he’d said them, and how he’d looked when he’d said them, and I picked at my dough, taking calming breaths in when I felt my heartbeat get shaky. There was no question about what he’d meant, I was sure of it.
…but then… what was the alternative?
He could have gotten busy. Witches knew he got a lot of travelling Cookies attempting to climb the Peak; maybe he’d gotten stopped by some of them.
Or maybe he’d lost track of time. As far as I knew, there were no clocks in the tower he lived in, and he didn’t often spend time near the few functioning windows in the place. Maybe he didn’t know it’d gotten so late.
Or maybe he’d—
Maybe he’d forgotten.
He could have… he could have just… let it slip away in his head. It could happen to anyone. He didn’t really care all that much, anyway.
What if he’d just… decided not to come?
My jam went cold. I wrapped my arms around my middle, trying to shield myself from the air, which was also getting colder as the sun’s reach lessened. Cookies were already leaving the square, the chatter lessening. Stands closed up. The lights of stores flickered off.
“He wouldn’t do that,” I insisted out loud, getting a few strange looks from passersby. “He wouldn’t… he wouldn’t do that!”
But… maybe he saw this differently. Maybe I had, after all, had a different understanding of this outing than he had. That was probably it! My foolish heart… it had gotten my hopes up once again, of course it had! Nothing new. It had done so too many times before, I had lived, I would live again.
Dough feeling heavy, I wandered to the edge of the square, casting the bouquet I’d made into my Other-Realm, and sat on the edge of the sidewalk, placing my arms across my knees and my head in my arms. I let out a sigh-laugh, puffing out air in a visible cloud as the night’s chill crept through the square. I was so stupid. I had spent the whole day getting my hopes up about this one little thing the Recluse had done.
It didn’t matter, though! Things would go on as they always had. I would hold my lectures and argue with the school board Cookies. Sugarcane would portal in a letter with her weekly news. Cherry Cordial would perform their magic shows every couple of days. The little doughs would crowd around me and beg for plushies or stories or ideas for their games. Cheese Croissant, the inn owner, would chat with me about what was going on in town.
The world would move on. It already was! This was no big deal!
And yet… I had left some piece of myself with it—as if one of my coattails had caught on a stray branch, and some of its fabric had torn.
…It was fine! I tore my clothes all the time on accident, so could the world tear my soul. It didn’t matter, it didn’t matter! I didn’t care that the Recluse had shown me up! I didn’t care that I had been out here in the cold for an hour, the sun nearly gone, waiting for the one Cookie I wanted to see! The one Cookie who didn’t care…! The one Cookie who made me wish that he cared…
I stifled a sob in my sleeves (those damn ruffled sleeves).
I cared. Damn it, I cared a lot.
All of a sudden, there was a soft touch on my shoulder, and quick as I could, I wiped the tears from my eyes and sat up straight, giving my best smile. “Eh—? Sorry, I was lost in thought, ha! What is it you need?”
A tall, thin Cookie leaned over me, brown hair streaked with white falling in front of their face so I could only see a touch of tan skin and grey eyes. They wore a brown cloak, hood pulled tight over their head and fabric wrapped around their torso, so that I couldn’t see what they were wearing besides their battered boots. “Sage?” they asked. “Are you alright?”
Though I couldn’t see much of their face, there was a guilty sadness so obvious in it that I started, surprise filling me. “Ah… yes, I’m quite well, thank you! Now, what are you here for? There’s an inn just around the corner if you—”
“Sage,” the Cookie murmured, sad and quiet, cutting me off. I watched in quickly-increasing shock as they flipped the hood off of their head and unclasped their cloak, the tattered brown fabric vanishing into nothing as their hair grew longer, paler, and their eyes flickered grey one more time before dandelion-yellow and cornflower-blue replaced them. Within an instant, the Truthless Recluse stood before me, cloak pulled tight around him like his disguise’s had been, that I couldn’t see anything of him but his face. “Sage, I—”
“...You’re here,” I breathed, stumbling to my feet. If I were honest, I wasn’t completely surprised it was him—of course, I hadn’t expected it, but it felt as though it were supposed to happen somehow. “I thought… I was going to—...”
“I’m sorry, I’m so, so sorry,” the Recluse interrupted, clasping one of my hands between his own, some kind of desparation in his cloudy eyes. “I didn’t expect everything to take so long, and I—I lost track of time, I wanted it to be—I—just—please forgive me, I can make it up to you—!”
I fell forwards, wrapped him in a hug, burying my face in his shoulder and sniffling one more time before the tears gave way to a small grin. He was here. He cared. He cared…
“It’s alright,” I replied, pulling away and smiling tearfully. “I’m just glad you’re here.”
For once, he didn’t immediately attempt to escape my proximity—instead, he leaned back a little more, looking me over. “You—” he began, seeming to notice my outfit, “you—you look—... Blueberry…”
His eyes were slightly wide, and feeling my face heat up, I mumbled, “Thank you.”
“Thank you for coming,” he replied quietly. “I was afraid you wouldn’t care.”
“I was, too!” I exclaimed, my own eyes widening. “I—I thought this didn’t mean as much to you as it—as it does to me…”
The Recluse shook his head fervently. “No, no! That’s not true at all, please don’t—don’t worry about that!”
“Well then, you don’t worry about it, either,” I told him. “You mean too much to me for me not to care.”
His expression softened. In it was something I didn’t dare to name—but I noticed it, and smiling, I joked, “Who would have thought? The Truthless Recluse going soft for his antithesis!”
Said Recluse scoffed slightly, but there was the hint of a smile on his face. “I wouldn’t call it going soft…”
“I’m kidding, I’m kidding,” I told him, chuckling. “So—... what did you want to meet me here for, anyway? I was correct in my assumption that it wasn’t a simple meeting, right?”
The Recluse nodded, fidgeting with his cloak. “You were. Sorry if this isn’t what you were expecting, but I planned it a little last-minute, and… I have something I want to show you at the Peak…”
He looked so earnest—face full of some kind of anticipation that removed any doubt in my mind that he didn’t want to be here. I shrugged, smiling wider, and said, “Couldn’t hurt! What do you want to show me?”
We began walking—or, well, the Recluse did, and after a moment, I caught on and followed, hand still in his. “I can’t tell you that, Sage,” he replied cryptically, staying perfectly composed as we made our way away from the square and down the road that led to the Peak of Truth. “It’s a surprise.”
“Now you’ve got me all curious,” I sighed sadly, slumping jokingly against his side and quickly springing back to my feet when he jolted. “Sorry, I—”
“It’s alright, you just surprised me,” he told me, “and—I’m sorry I can’t tell you, but… I think you’re going to like it…”
I looked up at him, interested. “So this is—it’s—planned?”
“I did a bit of research,” mumbled the Recluse, looking away. Planting his staff into the ground (where on Earthbread had he hid it in his disguise?), he tore open a portal to the edge of the forest near the base of the Peak, and we stepped through it. “Your sister gave me a few pointers, admittedly.”
Oh my Witches, she’s playing matchmaker, I realized, letting out a disbelieving laugh. And the Recluse is playing into her hand! “Really now,” I mused, shaking my head. “So that was what you really went to the Aegis Kingdom for…!”
He nodded.
“Goodness,” I marvelled, reminiscing on the many, many times he’d kicked me off his Peak for having things to do. “My dear Recluse, you’re wasting all your time on me! What on Earthbread were you thinking?! I thought you had things to take care of at the Peak!”
“It’s not a waste,” he protested. “I wanted to do this. My duties can wait. Also, that barrier spell you helped me develop has been working extraordinarily well, and there aren’t nearly as many Cookies coming up the Peak.”
I floundered for something to say. He had claimed that spending time with me wasn’t a waste, told me that his duties could wait, and complimented my spellwork, all in one breath! That was not something I was prepared to reply to!!!
“...Who are you and what have you done with my Recluse?” was what I eventually landed on, fanning my burning face with a hand. “I—I’m kidding… I just—I didn’t expect this! You’re always saying you don’t want to spend time with me…”
“Well, Cookies say things,” he evaded. “Here, there’s another path, come this way…”
We had reached the base of the Peak of Truth. The usual path, humming with the magical energy of the Recluse’s barriers, was right before us—but the Recluse was leading me somewhere else, into the thicker trees around the base, those that hadn’t been tamed with the growth of Blueberry Yoghurt Town. I didn’t question it, and the Recluse didn’t elaborate.
It turned out that there was, indeed, another path up the Peak. Its entrance was hidden behind a large, thick tree and the bushes that grew around it, and though they looked impassable from outside, the Recluse waved his staff hand, and one of the bushes simply… vanished.
When I blinked quizzically, glancing between him and the not-bush, he smiled. “Illusion magic, like yours.”
“Impressive,” I murmured, glancing over the spot the bush had been and picking up no trace of leftover magic—the Recluse was precise, and he hadn’t missed anything here.
“Thank you,” he replied, sounding pleased.
The path was much like the usual one we took: it was basically a slab of rock carved out of the mountainside that spiralled up it in the same direction as the original path. I chalked up the fact that I’d never seen it before to the Recluse’s illusions, and reigned my magic in close to me so it wouldn’t mess up the careful spells I could feel humming under the rock.
“Where are we going?” I whispered as we passed the tops of the trees, feeling like I had to stay quiet so as not to disturb the stillness. “You wouldn’t have taken me this way if you wanted to go to the top.”
He nodded. “You’re right. We’re going elsewhere.”
I tilted my head. “I suppose you’re not going to tell me where?”
“I don’t have to,” he responded. “We’re almost there.”
I threw my staff into my Other-Realm and followed him as he sped up, taking long strides up the path in what looked like excited anticipation. Soon enough, the path levelled out, and small trees began to show up on slightly grassy ground—there was more flat land up here than I’d known of, I supposed.
“So much magic,” I murmured, feeling spells hum around me in the air and looking around at the area in awe. “Have you been hiding this entire… thing?”
The trees got taller and thicker, and the Recluse began to push through some foliage. “Yes, it’s quite important to me,” he replied. “I didn’t want the truth-seekers finding it, so I hid it.”
“...I’m a truth-seeker, am I not?”
He dipped his head in acknowledgement of my words. “You are. But you are also my other half, and you respect me, yes?”
“Yes,” I smiled, heart jumping at his calling me his other half. “Yes, I do. Very much.”
“Then, I trust you enough to show you this place,” he replied, slightly shyly. “I—... I haven’t taken care of it in a while, but… I did my best.”
He shoved aside some low-hanging vines (how did all of this grow so thickly up here, anyway?), pushed through what was evidently the last of the foliage, and led me into the center of the clearing that was evidently there, holding back the greenery and dipping his head jokingly to me as I stepped through.
“What on Earthbread—...?” I murmured as soon as I could see the place. It wasn’t hard to see, even with the sun making its exit on the sky—there were strings of small glass orbs hung on nearly all the trees, with some lacing the sky between them and across the clearing. When I glanced over at the far end of the clearing, a small gold-and-blue-checkered blanket caught my eye, sat perfectly near some of the trees and bushes, and lit with a few extra lanterns, sitting neatly around it on the ground.
“Recluse,” I whispered, eyes wide. “This is—…”
“—It’s foolish, I know, I didn’t have a lot, I just—I wanted to—you don’t need to stay if you don’t want,” the Recluse interrupted. I whirled around to look at him—he was hunched in on himself, cloak pulled even tighter to his chest as he stared at the ground. “I won’t waste your time, it’s not much, I just—...”
“—Oh, Recluse, stop that,” I insisted, hurrying back over to him, “it’s—it’s beautiful! I don’t care if you think it’s not much, I’m just so—I’m so happy you did this for me… thank you… thank you so, so much…”
His eyes widened, and he stared at me for a moment, seeming unsure of what to say. Finally, he landed on, “You like it?”
“I love it,” I assured him, pulling him gently into a hug. The Recluse froze for a second, but soon enough, I felt him return the embrace.
He let go quickly, but I wasn’t fazed. “So, what have you planned?” I asked, smiling. “Or shall I run my mouth for an hour or two?”
“I wouldn’t object, but I—I did… I did make this.”
I looked quizzically at him, trying to figure out what he was indicating, then realized he was rummaging around in his pocket-dimension sleeves. After just a moment, he pulled something out of one: a small woven basket with a simple white cloth covering its contents. He led me over to the blanket I’d noticed earlier, placed the basket down, and bowed slightly, extending a hand to the scene. “Sit, if you’d still like.”
I stood there for a long minute, staring at the perfectly-placed blanket, and the lanterns flickering over my Recluse’s face, and the slight anxiousness that was also doing so.
We hit the ground softly, cushioned by a thin sheet of my magic, and I smiled wide, hugging him tight and pressing my face into his shoulder to stop my gleeful laughter from bothering him too much. Surprisingly enough, despite my abrupt tackle-hug, the Recluse hadn’t frozen up, or shoved me off of him, or anything else—in fact, he was returning the hug, for the second time in five minutes. I felt more delight fill me, and tightened my arms around his chest.
“You like it that much, huh,” he coughed, struggling to get the words out past my tight grip on him. Immediately getting ahold of myself upon hearing this, I rolled quickly off of him and sat up on the blanket, hugging my legs to my chest and laughing nervously.
“Sorry, Recluse, I just—... this is… I must be the luckiest Cookie alive,” I murmured, looking around.
“Because you got a picnic?” he asked dryly. There was something else in his voice, something choked-up, and I looked over at him to make sure he was alright—which was absolutely a poor idea, because the softness in his pale eyes and flushed face was nearly enough to send me swooning again.
“Because I got a picnic from you,” I sighed, hiding my foolish grin in my knees. “I can’t believe you went to all this trouble just for me!”
“You go to more trouble than this was all the time, it’s only right I do something for once,” he mumbled, sitting up too. “Now, no point in wasting it. Eat something, I know you don’t often.”
I blinked at him, then at the small basket he’d set down, which I’d nearly forgotten about. “Wait a moment—you—...?”
He nodded, almost shyly, pulling the cloth off from the top of the basket and setting three items neatly onto the blanket next to it. Firstly came a small box of jellies—and when I looked closer, I noticed it was a kind I quite enjoyed. The second thing was, surprisingly, two bowls of candy pasta, still warm—I chalked this up to some spell or another keeping them from spilling in the basket.
Next was the berry juice. There wasn’t a lot of it, just a small bottle. But it caught me by surprise all the same.
“You—...” I whispered. “Recluse…”
“It’s… I would have done more, but I ran out of time,” the Recluse muttered, not looking at me. “I’m sorry…”
“Recluse, there’s nothing to be sorry about,” I breathed, shaking my head. “You made us an entire picnic. And you showed me this place… I—...”
So many words—I love you so much, and I wish you knew how much this means to me, and you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me found its way to the tip of my tongue. I closed my mouth before any of them could escape, and let a tear or two fall instead. Those were a much safer alternative.
“Wha—...? Sage…? Are you—...?” The Recluse tensed, eyes widening as they flicked back to me. “Are you—alright?”
I nodded rapidly, wiping the tears out of my eyes and giggling. “I’m just… so… I’m so happy…”
“You—you are—...?” He blinked a few times, something vulnerable filling his face. “You really are…?”
Leaning forwards in lieu of an answer, I wrapped him in my arms and buried my face in his shoulder. I thought I saw him smile.
We conversed about whatever subjects either of us came up with for the next while. For once, I wasn’t simply rambling on about whatever I deemed important—the Recluse was actually conversing with me, adding his opinion and countering my statements and laughing, that beautiful, soft laugh I’d only heard a few times before this.
Every time he gave me a smile—ovens, every time he looked at me with that warmth in his usually empty eyes—I felt myself fall a little further. (It was a shock, how much I could be in love with this man, but here I was, smiling when he so much as glanced over at me!)
And—the best part—he seemed truly, genuinely happy. Happy to be around me, happy to be with me. The Truthless Recluse, happy to be with the Sage of Truth, the man he’d thought nothing of for ages. I had to be crumbled and in heaven. Real life didn’t simply grant all of one’s wishes like this!
At one point, I leaned on his shoulder like I always would when I’d met him. I’d been all over him then, not understanding how uncomfortable the touches made him, but eventually I’d caught on—and now, here I was again, head on his shoulder as I listened to him talk about the way he’d made the illusion spells around this place. I hadn’t noticed a single tell that he was uncomfortable—normally, if something I did bothered him, his eyes would narrow, just slightly, his face would darken, his wings would tuck themselves closer to the sides of his head—but now, there was nothing. He just let it happen without a word.
Yes, I was definitely in heaven. Things like this did not just happen!!!!!
The conversation lulled. We had long finished with our pasta and jellies, and with a questioning look at me, the Recluse reached for the berry juice (making sure not to disturb my head on his shoulder. How the tables have turned!). I shrugged, silently taking two small glasses out of my Other-Realm and handing one to him.
He uncorked the bottle and tipped it just slightly, pouring a bit into his glass. When he poured mine, he gave a gentle touch to my hand to make sure the glass wouldn’t tip, and my ridiculous heart skipped a beat. “It’s Hollyb—the Aegis Kingdom’s,” he commented quietly. “Made specifically so that even those made from vanilla extract could enjoy it.”
“It’s strong enough to surpass your alcohol tolerance? Then what’ll it do to me?” I asked, half-joking. “You could crumble me with your Aegian drink, my Recluse!”
“I wouldn’t give you something that could crumble you,” he replied, sounding slightly offended. “I made sure it was safe for any Cookie, even you and your frankly sad tolerance.”
“Ouch,” I sighed, placing a hand to my chest and pretending like I wasn’t fighting off a grin with how much he’d done. “You might crumble me with your hurtful words before I even put this glass to my lips…”
He huffed in amusement and raised his own glass towards me. I touched mine to it with a clink, then raised it to my mouth and took a sip, noting the slightly sweet flavour—familiar, from the many Aegian drinks Sugarcane insisted I try whenever I visited. The Recluse sipped his too, and we sank back into comfortable silence.
“Blueberry Milk.” The Recluse was the first to speak, several minutes after we’d finished our first glasses. After speaking my name, he reached forwards, not seeming to think much of it, and poured us both a bit more berry juice. I didn’t think much of it either, and picked my glass up again.
“Hm?” I asked, looking up at him, his side warm against mine. He blinked slowly back at me, eyes half-lidded in what I assumed was relaxation.
“Do you know how to dance?” the Recluse asked.
I blinked a few times. There was a nice warmth in my chest from the alcohol, or the Recluse’s proximity, or maybe both. “Hmm? Of course! I know every dance on Earthbread.”
“Every dance,” he said skeptically. “Haven’t you been in hiding for millenia?”
“Well, I know all the ones from the Virtues’ time,” I sighed, shaking my head. “And you’ve been holed up on your Peak for nearly as long!”
“Not nearly as long,” he huffed. “Yes, a long time, but not as long as you.”
“Yeah, yeah.” I waved this off. “Anyways, why do you ask?”
“The Blueberry Yoghurt Academy had a class specifically on old dances from your time,” the Recluse reflected, looking away and staring up at the now-dark sky. He sipped his berry juice, and I did the same, watching him, waiting for him to continue. “I took it mostly out of curiosity. It ended up being very helpful.”
“Yeah?” I murmured, drinking the new knowledge in. I had known he’d gone to my Academy, but not anything past that. “What about it?”
He didn’t reply immediately, finishing his glass and setting it carefully next to the bottle on the picnic blanket. I set mine down too, folding my hands lazily in my lap and staring unabashedly up at him, waiting patiently for his words.
The Recluse stood slowly, then helped me up too, the warm dough of his hands a contrast to the cool air—and my own dough. He closed his eyes, let out a long, calming breath, straightened his shoulders—
—and unclasped his cloak.
I choked on the chilled air.
Underneath the thick black fabric, that which was vanishing into whatever system of portals the Recluse used, was an outfit completely unlike anything I’d ever seen him in before. Besides the few outfits I’d convinced him to wear over the months and the one he’d worn earlier today, all I saw him in were his various sets of robes, so this? This had me stunned.
And not just because it was unexpected—because he looked ridiculously good. Yes, the Recluse wasn’t anything short of good-looking normally, but I wouldn’t complain about the black-gold belt and the dark pants and the ruffled shirt and the capelet clasped over one shoulder either!!! He’d done everything for me now—made me a picnic, complimented me, and dressed up, twice!!
I made a frankly embarrassing squeak upon seeing the Recluse’s outfit for the first time, and for a split second, amusement crossed his face. But then, it was straight back to the anxiousness I’d seen far more times this evening than in the entire time I’d known him, and with what looked like true worry in his face, the Recluse extended his hand to me.
“Would you spare me a dance, my Sage?” he asked softly.