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“CHEERS!”
“Move your glass here, Comrade Windsong! Let me do the honor of pouring our ley hunter her first shot.”
“T-Thanks.”
Not even bothering to wait for Windsong’s approval, Knut splashes some transparent spirits into her glass. It’s been a few weeks since their triumphant victory and discovery of the new mine, and after each week of blood, sweat and tears, the workers all duly reward themselves with some much needed inebriation.
Windsong spins the slippery glass between her fingers. Knut and other comrades watch her, bright-eyed and expectant. Seeing there was no way out, Windsong throws back the glass and lets the alcohol sear her tongue and throat.
“Yeah!”
Her comrades cheer loudly and start pouring each other their drinks.
Normally, Windsong would turn down the weekly celebration in favor of returning to her hotel room and rolling herself up in the warm duvet. Not that she wasn’t a fan of drinking—she enjoyed the occasional swig of vodka or cheap whiskey, in fact— but doing it for the sake of getting drunk, and not to mention in a crowd, was something Windsong preferred to avoid for her own personal reasons. In spite of all this, she admits the boisterous laughing, clinking glasses, warm light, and lively jazz music from the old stereo weave a cacophony that serves to lift her spirits.
“Comrade Vila! Here you go; Nice big tall glass of lager, just how you like it!”
Windsong watches a fellow comrade slam down a large mug of foaming gold beer in front of the woman sitting beside her. The sheer volume and sharp crack of the glass on the table nearly makes Windsong flinch. Vila says her thanks and lifts the glass to her lips.
As she takes her first, second, and third gulp, Vila tosses a glance to the side, noticing Windsong’s lingering gaze.
“Something the matter, comrade Windsong?”
Windsong flusters, waving a hand in the air in apology. She hadn’t realized she was staring.
“N-No, it’s nothing. I was just a bit taken back, is all,” she answers, “H-here…you’ve got a little—“
Windsong reaches over with a napkin and wipes off some foam clinging on Vila’s lip.
“Oh! Why thank you,” Vila cleans off the remaining with the back of her hand as she laughs, light-hearted and vibrant. “Did you want to try some? I’m not quite sure how well it stands up to other places, but the lager here is quite well brewed if I’m anyone to judge.”
Vila slides over her glass, but Windsong quickly raises a hand to refuse. Vila tilts her head.
“Not a fan of beer?”
“I’m…not much of a drinker, I’ll admit, comrade Vila,” Windsong chuckles and scratches the back of her head.
“Oh, so I’ve heard!” Vila claps her hands together. “You know, the others came to me a few times, asking if there was a way to get you to go to their little end-of-the-week celebration. They figured since I’ve spent more time with you that I’d know a thing or two.”
“…And? What did you tell them?”
“Well, I didn’t say anything for certain,” Vila answers hesitantly, “I just suggested if it was a whole town celebration that you might feel more…inclined to go.”
“So ya sold me out, huh?” Windsong narrows her eyes at Vila, but not without a playful grin tugging at her lips. Just as Vila had suspected, the only reason Windsong did agree to it this time was because every adult in Rayashki was going to be there.
“Oh, don’t put it like that, comrade!” Vila bumps her shoulder into the taller woman. “Don’t worry. I’ll make sure no one strong arms you into drinking more than you want to. I promise!”
Windsong sighs, already forgiving the Rusalka's little blunder. “Well, I appreciate it.”
Saying this, the researcher plucks a clear bottle from across the table and tilts out some of its contents into her glass.
“Cheers?”
Windsong lifts the glass towards Vila.
“Cheers!”
Their glasses meet with a clink before they take a swig of their drink.
Her second shot. Windsong already feels fuzz clouding her faculties.
“Excuse me, Comrade Elena? Could we get a glass of water?”
Windsong squeezes her eyes open and shut as Vila waves over one of their fellow comrades. She slides over the water, urging Windsong to drink.
“Make sure to pace yourself, Windsong.”
“R-right. Thanks.”
As the bar continues being filled with raucous camaraderie, Windsong finds herself being questioned by the other townsfolk about her past as a researcher. She readily explains how the study of leylines first attracted her, her enrollment into her school, the different projects she’s worked on, and more. She pays close attention to each face crowding around her, ensuring that she wasn’t rambling in her usual fashion when it came to her work. The people of Rayashki were truly a different crowd, because even when Windsong started delving into theoretics and applications, they still leaned in and listened like it was the most interesting thing they’ve heard in their lives.
Vila too, was carefully following along and noting the things that Windsong hadn’t told her before, but soon found her glass empty. She glances over, and thinking it would be best to not disturb her in the middle of a passionate explanation about spatial logic, quietly gets up to retrieve her refill.
“Ah, Comrade Vila! Come, come over here!”
As Vila aimed to return to Windsong’s side, her fellow schoolteacher Ulyana waves her over to sit with a couple other female comrades. Vila glances over towards Windsong, hesitant, but when she finds her to still be happily lecturing away, she accepts the invitation and takes a seat beside Ulyana.
“So Comrade Raisa and I were just catching up with each other, and listen to this—“
Ulyana goes on to talk about a rumor she had heard over the radio when she was still in Moscow. Vila nods along, taking a drink of her beer in between pauses. When Raisa follows up with a query of her own, Vila feels her scales shudder against her skin. She turns her head to scan the bar, alert and wary, but eases when she spots a familiar face blinking in her direction from across the bar.
Looks just like a sad puppy, she notes. Hoping that it would cheer up Windsong, Vila flashes a wink at her.
Instead, Windsong immediately flushes a bright red and fumbles the cup in her hand. Vila tries (and fails) to hold back a snicker.
How cute.
Vila watches as Knut eagerly refills Windsong’s glass, the contents of which she had just spilled across the table.
Oh, right. That must be why she looked for her.
Remembering her promise, Vila tries to find a good point in Ulyana and Raisa’s conversation to excuse herself. Except, now the two were ping ponging back and forth about the different teaching methods found in larger schools and if they would be effective in Rayashki, which was a topic Vila felt would be inappropriate for her as a fellow teacher to leave at. She looks over again to find Windsong throwing back another shot.
“Yes, it’s true that we should prepare them in case they decide to venture away from Rayashki, but don’t you think—“
Vila looks again. Another shot.
“The children shouldn’t have to worry about that at their age. I say we should just let them have a proper childhood, then perhaps when they come of age—“
“A-Apologies, comrades!”
Vila shoots up from her seat, chair scraping against the floor. Ulyana and Raisa look up at her.
“Oh, leaving already?”
“Y-yes. I'm afraid my…former teaching partner may be starting to have trouble holding her liquor.”
“Comrade Windsong, is it?” Ulyana leans over to check, frowning when she sees Knut refilling a now tipsy Windsong’s cup, again. “That Knut! Still trying to drink everyone under the table, that one.” She shakes her head. “Alright, comrade Vila, go rescue your woman. Go on, go!”
She shoos Vila away with a wave of her hand, and while the latter gratefully takes her leave, she internally questions Ulyana’s choice of words as she weaves through the crowd towards Windsong.
“Alright now, don’t you think that’s enough?” Vila snatches the shot glass away from being filled another time by Knut and slides it across the table out of reach. “You have to be considerate of when others reach their limit, you know.”
“Comrade Vila! Don’t worry, don’t worry! It wasn’t that much, right, Comrade Windsong?”
Vila once more takes her seat beside Windsong, who was now supporting her head against her hand, obscuring her face.
“Comrade Windsong?” Vila calls her name quietly and presses a hand against her shoulder.
Feeling her touch, Windsong pulls her head up and turns to face Vila. Her cheeks are completely flush and pink.
“Comrade Vila…”
Vila gives her a smile at the sound of her name. She tries to read Windsong’s oddly stoic expression, at first fearing that she might have gotten upset with her, but instinct tells her that something otherwise was afoot judging off the blank look in her eyes.
Then, for some reason that Vila cannot possibly comprehend at that moment, tears start to fall from Windsong’s eyes.
“Comrade Vila…” Windsong repeats.
Vila’s heart jumps.
“O-oh dear! Looks like she did have too much to drink after all!”
The Rusalka scrambles to pull Windsong close as she stands her to her feet, trying to keep her face out of sight from the others. Fortunately, Windsong makes this task easy for her as her head goes limp, leaning in towards her chest.
“What! Did she pass out!?” Knut bellows with laughter. “So she’s a lightweight after all! No wonder she didn’t want to tag along all the other times!”
“She drank a reasonable amount, if you ask me,” Vila counters, her voice playful yet strict. “Not everyone’s tolerance is as high as yours, Comrade Knut. Now, make way, please! I’ll be making sure our researcher here gets back to her hotel safely.”
“Alright, alright, I won’t get in yer way. Off you go!”
Vila gives her thanks, then slings Windsongs arm around her shoulder as she shuffles to the doors. She does her best to keep the taller and barely conscious woman steady, both stumbling down the steps and onto cold pavement, leaving the lively chatter and bustle behind them as they saunter further into the gray night.
Vila takes in a quick breath of crisp air and exhales. A wisp of warm fog flutters about before vanishing in her trail.
While the Rusalka enjoyed spending time and making merry with her fellow townsmen and women, her heightened senses often left her tolerance little and dwindling by the end of it. If anything, perhaps Windsong’s ineptitude for holding her alcohol was a blessing in disguise for her.
Their boots crunch against the gravel and dirt beneath their feet as they cross the square, footsteps thumping in poor rhythm as the two all but wobble along the path.
“…nie.”
“Hm?”
Vila glances over at the sound of a voice.
“Windsong? Did you say something?”
“Vilaa,” Windsong drawls, “You…you big meanie!”
In a fit of sudden anger, Windsong pushes her weight against Vila, and sobs. Vila staggers as she’s caught by surprise at the outburst, but manages to regain her balance, adjusting Windsong’s arm across her shoulders while she continues to whine.
“You said…you said you were gonna helb me—Hic…but you left me!” The leyhunter sniffles loudly as she slowly strings her words together.
So, that explains the crying.
“I’m so sorry, Windsong! I tried to come back sooner, I did, but the others dragged me away. I didn’t mean to break my promise to you, really!” Vila explains.
Windsong is silent in thought for a second or two, then gives a big nod.
“Mm. Okay.”
Vila blinks.
“Um…that’s it?”
“Mmhm.” Windsong nods in the same exaggerated manner. “Ieee believe—Hic you.” She waves a hand in the air as if all were forgiven. Vila sighs and laughs at the same time.
“You’re a big girl, Windsong. Surely you can say no without me to help you?”
Somehow, this question triggers another fit of sobs. Vila winces as she fumbles around her pocket for a handkerchief and wipes Windsong’s tearstained face.
“Rayajhgi…too nice,” she slurs, emphasizing her words by stabbing the air with a pointed finger. “Without Rayadgji—Hic—my leylines,” another big, snotty sob, “my leylines…!”
“Okay, okay, I get it,” Vila firmly rubs her back. “You feel indebted to Rayashki for supporting your research, so you didn’t want to turn down the drinks. Is that it?”
“Mmhm, mmhm.” Windsong bounces her head twice, then rests her cheek against Vila’s hair. “You get me, Vila, you get me. Always soooo nice to lil’ ol’ me—“
In a sudden turn of mood, Windsong starts drunkenly humming an off key and off beat melody. Somewhere along the way, Vila realizes she was trying to hum the tune she liked to sing to the kids from time to time. The humming gradually fades out, leaving them in silence for a moment as they walk, until Windsong finally speaks.
“Vila…you smell…”
Vila’s brow furrows as she struggles to figure out how to feel about this revelation.
“Well, pardon me. I did properly shower this morning—“
“—smell nice,” Windsong continues, turning her head to give a loud sniff of Vila’s hair. “Ocean-y. ‘n…birch-y.”
“Oh!” Vila’s heart lightens at the very silly remark, both relieved and amused as she giggles. “Why, thank you.”
Windsong nods again. Then again, and again. Vila quickly realizes she wasn’t nodding, but rubbing her face against her scales on her cheek.
“Mmm…shmooth and cool…”
“Oh, come now, Windsong, that tickles!” Vila tries pulling her head away as she laughs. “You’re not turning into a cat, are you?”
“Meowwww—“
Windsong offers a very unhelpful mewl and suddenly tries pulling away from Vila in some half-assed attempt at walking on her own. Vila doesn’t have it when she immediately almost walks herself straight into a lamp post and quickly pulls her back in.
“Nope. Not that way, Windsong.”
While Vila remains vigilant in keeping the drunken researcher on the path to the hotel, she briefly considers if it would be easier to just pick her up in a fireman's carry and walk her the rest of the way there that way, but the idea is soon discarded when they arrive at their destination.
“Alright, we’re here,” Vila glances around the empty lobby. Oleg, the owner and attendant, was still at the bar. “Your room is…this way, I think I remember.”
Vila drags Windsong down the hallway to the left and stops at the third door.
“Your keys?”
Windsong pats her pant pocket, eliciting a metallic jingle. She pulls out the key, but completely misses the slot as she tries to insert it. As she scrapes the key against the metal in a couple more poor attempts, Vila reaches over and guides Windsong’s hand properly to the opening. The door unlocks with a satisfying click.
Vila turns the knob and pushes in, kicking the door close behind her.
“And we’re here.”
She flicks on the light, makes her way to the bed, and finally releases her drunken six foot burden to flop on the sheets like a sack of potatoes. Windsong groans as she makes impact, but seemingly sighs in content once she realizes she’s back in her bed. Vila sits on the edge beside her, taking a small break of her own.
“How are you feeling?”
Windsong squeezes and rubs her eyes, blinks, then raises an overly confident thumbs up in the air.
“Good. I’ll fetch you some water first, then I’ll leave you to get some—”
“Nnoooo—”
Before Vila can even get up, Windsong rolls over and wraps her arms around her waist.
“C-comrade Windsong!”
“Don’t leave,” Windsong pleads, her voice muffled in Vila’s clothes. “…Please?”
Vila hears her sniffle. With everything that’s happened thus far, Vila guesses with a measure of confidence that Windsong was simply a big crybaby when drunk, and understandably wanted to avoid others coming across this vice of hers.
Vila pats her head. “Alright, alright. I’ll stay.”
“Oh, you will?”
Windsong sits up at attention as if she were entirely expecting her to say no. Her face now dangerously close to Vila’s, she leans back just an inch, and nods with a polite smile on her lips. Windsong’s eyes light up, and she leans in for another hug.
“Aww thank youuuuu—“
In the middle of her vocal gratitude, Windsong devolves into yet more tears as she rubs her face against Vila’s scales.
“Okay, okay. There, there. Nothing to cry about.” Vila tries not to laugh as she comforts Windsong with more pats on her head. When the crying dies down, Windsong pulls away, but eyes remain fixed and intent on Vila. It wasn’t quite eye contact, but Windsong seemed particularly intrigued by what Vila presumes are her scales.
“You seem to be very fond of them.”
Windsong nods. “They’re really cool. I mean…both cool. And cool.”
She raises her hand and reaches out. Despite her drunkenness, she still manages to hold herself back out of respect for Vila.
“Uh…Can I touch?”
Vila smiles.
“…You may.”
Having received her blessing, Windsong brings her hand closer. Vila tilts her head the other way, revealing the scales on her neck in full, then feels a gentle poke against them.
“Ooh. It’s hard!” Windsong proclaims in awe.
“It is, isn’t it?”
Windsong continues inspecting the scales, brushing the pads of her fingers against the surface.
Ordinarily, Vila didn’t find her scales to be very sensitive. They acted like armor for her, protecting her from extreme temperatures as well as increasing her hydrodynamics while in the water. If she had to compare them to something a human could understand, they were more like the nails of your fingertips than anything else.
But right now, at this moment, Vila could not be any more aware of the sensations of Windsong’s warm hands against them. Her chest tightens and her breath becomes shallow, and Vila is silently grateful that she is the one sober and not the one drunk..
Windsong lets out a sudden gasp and pulls her hand away. Vila looks over to see what was wrong to find one of her silvery scales in between her fingers.
“Oh, did that one come off?”
“I…” Tears well up in Windsong’s eyes. “I broke it! I’m sorrrryy—“
She reaches out with the scale as if to try and put it back, but Vila is quick to stop her.
“No, no it’s okay! They come off all the time and new ones grow back! See?”
She holds up her arm, feels for a loose scale and picks it out.
“Oh!” Windsong’s distress is quickly replaced with curiosity.
“Here. You can keep them. If you really want.”
“I can?”
“Well, I won’t be using them anymore, so they’re all yours.”
Windsong lights up as Vila hands her the second scale. She holds both of them up in the air, eyes sparkling with wonder as the light refracts along the surface. While still in her stupor of admiration, Windsong falls back onto the bed with a thud.
“Pretty…”
Vila lets out a laugh. It was a strange, but not unwelcome feeling. She had spent most of her life concealing these very scales for fear of hateful jeers and sharp words, but now here she was, seeing someone else treat them as if they were the most beautiful thing in the world.
Vila leans back and lies her head beside Windsong, watching quietly as she continues observing the shimmering scales. Windsong, finally having her fill, puts down the scales and turns to meet Vila’s gaze.
Both are quiet and still. Vila waits. She is curious to see what Windsong will say next.
But Windsong does not say anything. Instead, she rolls over and heaves the entire weight of her body across Vila like some human sized blanket. Vila nearly wheezes, but then laughs as she rests her hands on Windsong’s back.
“I think you are a bit too big for this, comrade.”
Windsong offers no response.
“…Windsong?”
Vila can’t see her face like this, but if she had to take a guess from the way she was breathing so soundly, Windsong was very much asleep.
She contemplates simply shoving her off to at least get up and turn off the lights, but decides to stay as she is for now. It was warm, and yes, even though Windsong’s full weight was a bit suffocating, it was still oddly comfortable. As she stares up at the beige ceiling, Vila clasps her hands around Windsong’s body. She listens closely to her breathing, feeling the wax and wanes of the swell of her back with each breath.
“Seems like you’ll be having a good night’s rest, comrade,” she murmurs. “Perhap I will have one too.”
“Ngh…”
Pain stabs from all directions in Windsong’s skull as consciousness slowly flows back to her. The natural light from the window bleeds through the blinds and pierces through the thin lids of her eyes, making her retreat further into her thick duvet.
What the hell even happened last night? How did she get back to her room without passing out shit-faced on the ground? The last thing she remembers is—
Windsong’s heart nearly stops, jolting awake as she throws the covers off her head. She scans over the room for signs of the Rusalka, her head still throbbing, and even more so from the sudden movement. The researcher sighs in relief seeing she was not in her room. Vila obviously must have went back to her own place once she dropped her off…
Or so she thought. Panic rises in her chest when she realizes a very familiar jacket has been left hanging on the chair at her desk.
“Ah—!”
Windsong stifles a gasp as she hears the doorknob turn. She throws the covers back on herself. Footsteps creak against the floor, approaching closer and closer.
“…Windsong? Are you awake?”
The voice was unmistakable. Windsong remains still and silent.
“Oh, don’t pretend. Take this!”
The covers are soon cruelly ripped away from her, her eyes forced to meet with both searing light—and Vila.
“Good morning, comrade!”
As wonderful as waking up to a smile like Vila’s is, the pain in Windsong’s skull begs her to seek reprieve from the light.
“Vila…please…mercy…” She moves her hands up to cover her eyes.
“Hangover?”
“…Yeah.”
“I thought as much, which is why I went to get you some water and medicine.”
Windsong feels a weight bounce on the bed. With a hefty sigh, she reluctantly peels her hands away from her face and sits up to receive Vila’s aid.
“…Thanks.” Still bashful, Windsong takes both offerings of painkiller and water. Once taken, she gulps down the rest of the glass for good measure. After a moment of spinning the cup around in her fingers, Windsong finally speaks.
“Um, Vila?”
“Yes, Windsong?”
“If you don’t mind me asking…why exactly…are you still here?”
“Oh! So you don’t remember after all.” Vila puts a hand to her chin. “A bit disappointing…but it was to be expected.”
“What.” Windsong blinks. “Vila. Vila, what does that mean.”
“Well, if you really want to know…”
The gleam in Vila’s eyes does nothing to help reassure Windsong in the least.
“You cried and begged me to stay with you before I left…so, I stayed.”
“I…I what?” Windsong has to hold back her internal cries of anguish as she puts a hand to her head.
“You were really adorable, you know. I can see why you are so hesitant on drinking in public!”
“Did I say anything else ‘adorable’ last night?”
“Multiple times, yes.” Vila nods matter of factly. Windsong grimaces with a sharp inhale. She asks one last question.
“Did I…say anything weird?”
“Weird?” Vila thinks. “You did meow, if you consider that weird.”
“I wha—“ Windsong shakes her head, “No, nevermind. Aside from that. Like…” She trails off. She doesn’t know how to finish the sentence. Vila senses the sudden weight.
“…Like what?”
“A-ah…no, it’s alright. If you didn’t think anything else was weird, then it’s fine.”
Windsong takes in a deep breath.
So she didn’t blindly and drunkenly confess her feelings to Vila. Good. Or, Vila was simply hiding it really well from her, but judging from how she’s acting her normal self, she can rule out that scenario. While she knows she can’t exactly hide them forever, Windsong prefers to not completely obliterate their friendship where it is now, nor does she think Vila deserves the mess of a drunken confession.
“…Do you need more water?”
“Oh, no. I’m okay.” Windsong reaches over to set the glass aside on the nightstand. “…Thanks, Vila. For taking care of me last night. And right now.”
Vila lets out a small laugh. “You are very welcome, Windsong. And thank you for giving me a very good memory to look back on.”
“Ugh,” Windsong groans at the mere thought of all the crying and whining and God knows what else she did. “Just promise you’ll keep all of that a secret.”
“Of course! The thought of otherwise never even crossed my mind.” Vila gets up from the bed and pats off her skirt. “Now then, I’d say it’s almost time for breakfast?”
“Oh, right.”
“I have to go back to my place to take care of some things first, but I can meet you back at the canteen later.”
“W-wait. Let me walk you to the door.”
Windsong hops off the bed, searching for her coat that was sadly discarded onto the floor sometime during the night. Once the two are presentable enough (Vila has to help Windsong tame a bit of unruly bedhead), they head out.
“See you soon, then?”
“See you soon.”
Vila smiles, reaching up to give Windsong a quick side hug and goes on her way. Windsong lingers, putting her hands in her pockets as she watches Vila grow smaller in the distance.
“…What the—“
A pair of something unfamiliar and smooth touches her fingers inside one of the pockets. Windsong fishes them out and inspects them closer. The color was strikingly familiar. Where has she seen this before? Windsong scrapes a nail against one of the objects. Hard.
“Wait—“
It clicks.
A dry breeze brushes by. The leyhunter stands frozen in place, staring at the scales in her hand.
“Windsong…what the hell did you do last night!?”