[Evening, Road Between Mingia and Ilsa]
I stopped walking.
Angy bumped into me. "Young Master? Why'd you—"
She saw her.
Shenhe saw her too. I felt her posture shift—subtle, but there. Alert. The kind of readiness she got when something unexpected happened.
The figure on the rock hadn't moved.
White turtleneck now decorated with pink and blue and yellow. Blonde hair streaked with green and orange. Red eyes staring at nothing, or everything, or somewhere in between.
Arcueid.
What is she doing here?
Why is she—
She turned.
Saw me.
And her face—
Her face crumpled.
"Nams."
Her voice cracked.
"Nams."
She stood up from the rock. Took a step toward me. Then another.
"Nams."
Her eyes were wet. Actually wet. Tears mixing with the colors on her cheeks, creating tiny rivers of pink and blue.
"Nams, look what they did to me."
She stopped in front of me. Spread her arms wide. Presented herself like evidence at a trial.
"LOOK."
I looked.
She was a disaster.
Her perfect white turtleneck—the one she wore every single time I saw her—was now tie-dyed in approximately seventeen colors. Pink dominated the left side. Blue covered the right. Yellow streaked across the middle like someone had thrown it intentionally.
Her hair—that beautiful blonde hair that caught light like it was made for it—was a mess of green and orange and purple. Stray strands stuck to her face. Others stood up at angles.
Her cheeks were smeared with red and pink. Her nose had a dot of blue. Her chin was somehow gold.
And her eyes—
Her eyes were red anyway, so the tears just made them glow.
"People." She choked on the word. "People threw things at me. At my face. With their hands. And they were laughing."
She grabbed my arm. Squeezed.
"I didn't do anything. I was just existing. In my house. Minding my own business. And suddenly there were children. With colors. And they—they—"
She couldn't finish.
Just stood there, holding my arm, crying colors onto my already-colorful shirt.
Behind me, Angy made a sound.
It was somewhere between a gasp and a squeak and a strangled laugh.
I turned.
Angy's face was a masterpiece of conflicting emotions.
Her mouth was open. Her eyes were wide. Her hands were pressed against her cheeks.
And she was vibrating.
"Shenhe." Her voice came out strangled. "Shenhe, she's—she's—"
"I see."
"She's crying. About colors. About holi."
"I see."
"WHAT DO WE DO?!"
Shenhe's expression didn't change. But I saw her eyes flick to Arcueid, then to me, then back to Arcueid.
Assessment mode.
Then, calmly,
"We explain."
"EXPLAIN?!"
"Yes. Holi is unfamiliar to her. She doesn't understand."
"She's crying, Shenhe. Crying people don't need explanations, they need—they need—" Angy flailed. "I don't know what they need!"
"Comfort," I said quietly.
Both of them looked at me.
I looked at Arcueid. Still clutching my arm. Still crying. Still completely undone by a bunch of children throwing colors.
"She needs comfort."
Arcueid sniffled.
"I don't need comfort." Her voice was muffled by my sleeve. "I need answers. Why would people do this? Why would they—" she hiccupped, actually hiccupped, "—throw things at someone they don't know?"
Angy stepped forward cautiously. Like approaching a wounded animal.
"It's... it's a festival?"
"A FESTIVAL?" Arcueid's head snapped up. Tears still flowing. "Throwing things at strangers is a festival?"
"It's—it's HOLI. Festival of colors. Spring. Good over evil. People celebrate by—"
"By attacking people?!"
"By sharing colors! It's supposed to be fun!"
Arcueid stared at her.
Angy stared back.
Then Arcueid looked down at herself again. At the ruined clothes. At the colored hands. At the general state of disaster that was her entire existence.
"Fun."
"Yes?"
"This is fun?"
"...Usually?"
Arcueid's face crumpled again.
"I don't understand this world."
She buried her face in my shoulder.
I stood there. Frozen. A being who could erase existence itself was crying into my shirt because children threw colors at her.
This is my life now.
Comforting immortal beings about Holi.
Shenhe moved.
Silent as always, she approached Arcueid from the side. Not touching. Just... present.
"Young miss."
Arcueid's head lifted slightly. Red eyes—wet, confused, betrayed—fixed on Shenhe.
"Young miss, this is a cultural difference. In this world, people celebrate Holi by sharing colors. It's a sign of welcome. Of community. Of joy."
"Joy."
"Yes. The children weren't attacking you. They were including you."
"Including me."
"They saw you and wanted you to be part of the celebration."
Arcueid processed this.
Looked at Shenhe.
Looked at me.
Looked at Angy, who was nodding vigorously.
Looked at her hands again.
"They... wanted me to be part of it?"
"Yes."
"By throwing things at me?"
"Yes."
"That's... that's how they welcome people here?"
"Sometimes, yes."
Arcueid was quiet for a long moment.
Then,
"That's weird."
Angy snorted.
Tried to hide it.
Failed.
Shenhe's eyebrow twitched.
And Arcueid—
Arcueid made a sound.
Small. Strangled. Almost like—
Was she laughing?
"I'm sorry." She pulled back from my shoulder. Wiped her eyes—smearing more colors across her face. "I'm sorry. I just—I thought—" Another sound. Definitely a laugh this time. "I thought they were attacking me. I thought this world had finally—that the peace was—and it was just—"
She laughed again.
Actually laughed.
Covered in colors. Tears still wet on her cheeks. Laughing.
Angy stared.
Shenhe stared.
I stared.
Then Angy started laughing too.
Then Shenhe's lips twitched.
Then I was smiling.
And Arcueid—powerful, reality-erasing Arcueid—stood in the middle of the road, covered in Holi colors, laughing at herself.
"I'm a mess," she finally said.
"Yes," I agreed.
"You could lie to make me feel better."
"No."
She laughed again. Softer this time.
Then she looked at Angy and Shenhe.
"You're his maids."
"Yes!" Angy beamed. "I'm Angy! This is Shenhe! We've been with Young Master since he was three!"
"Young Master?"
"That's what we call him!"
"You call him 'Young Master'?"
"Yes! Because he's our Young Master!"
Arcueid looked at me. "They're... intense."
"Yeah."
"But they care about you."
How does she keep doing that?
How does she keep seeing that?
"Yeah."
She nodded. Then looked down at herself again.
"I can't go home like this."
"Why not?"
"Because my house is white. Everything is white. If I walk in like this, everything will—" she gestured vaguely, "—become this."
Angy perked up. "You can come to our house! We have water! And towels! And food! And Mochi! Mochi is our cat, he's very judgmental but you'll love him!"
Arcueid blinked. "Your... cat?"
"He judges everyone. It's his job."
"I... don't know what to say."
"Say yes! Please? You're Nams's friend, right? Friends eat together! It's a rule!"
It's not a rule.
It's never been a rule.
But Angy's making it one.
Arcueid looked at me.
I shrugged.
She looked at Shenhe.
Shenhe gave the barest nod.
She looked at Angy, who was practically vibrating with excitement.
"Okay," she said quietly. "Yes. Thank you."
Angy cheered.
Shenhe turned and started walking toward the house.
And Arcueid—covered in colors, still sniffling slightly, looking more confused than I'd ever seen her—fell into step beside me.
"Your maids are strange," she whispered.
"I know."
"But I like them."
"...Yeah. Me too."
I guess... they're idiots.
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