One might expect a city as dreary as Whalestrand to have grown numb to the skies. When the heavens bring naught but chilled winds and rain enough to overflow barrels, perhaps the citizenry ought to resort to ignoring them contemptuously as an act of protest, no?
But the veil of expectations is so often pierced by observation, and the reality of the matter is that any who pay visit to Whalestrand find that the gloomy atmosphere inspires appreciation, not disenchantment.
That is to say, for experiencing all of its grey and wearying dampness from day to day, the inhabitants of Whalestrand are not blind to the beauties of the dawn, but rather all the more enraptured by every red and pink hue in the sky and every streak of sunlight upon the water.
Beyond the new year, beyond the merriment and celebrations of the holidays, now into the stiff breezes and gloomy Mondays of late January, the shimmering image of the rising sun stretches over the sea to the horizon once again. As dawn breaks over Whalestrand here near January's end, but one question springs forth – who remains to see it?
XXX
It had never been unusual for early-risers to hear the melodies of Lunasa's violin emanating from the harbor, but more and more regularly as of late, a fuller and richer sound marked the imminent arrival of the dawn. Today is no exception to the new normal, the three-piece Phantom Ensemble floating just out of reach over the water as they practice. Lunasa, Merlin, and Lyrica, united as musicians and sisters, play a piece unrecognizable to even the trained ear of a musical scholar, working together to perfect an original composition.
Musically, Lyrica takes the lead, her keyboard granting the piece the core of its structure, Merlin's trumpeting and Lunasa's strings adorning it as blooms and flowers adorn a sturdy stem. Counterintuitively cyclical in its ornamentation, yet steadfastly unwilling to reach a resolution in its progression, when Lyrica had shown the sheet music for her new composition to her sisters, she described her inspiration with but a single word – "Rebirth".
Seated on a crate and with a notebook set down in her lap, Layla Prismriver sways in time to Lyrica's wandering notes, eyes alight with the reflection of the rising sun. Though perhaps biased from having heard her sister's inspiration firsthand, visions of rebirth and rejuvenation truly do fill her head. Crescendos in the piece flare to life with the majesty of phoenixes, softer tones fall away like withered petals giving way so that fresh blooms might grow, and triumphant exclamations cut through sullen and anxious sequences to mirror sisters united in overcoming their insecurities and making new memories.
Did she feel a twinge of disappointment, knowing so many Kobbers were moving on from Whalestrand? Of course she did, but here, listening to her sisters playing with the backing of the rising sun, she wears a wide and cheerful smile, unconcerned by what lay elsewhere with so much to discover and enjoy right at home. With Lunasa scheduled to help her with moving the overflowing notes in her desk drawers later in the morning, and a trip to the Artcade with Lyrica on the docket for the afternoon, and her and Merlin planning to make progress on cleaning another room in the manor before dinner, she keeps on humming along, confident a pleasant day is in store for the Prismriver sisters.
XXX
The sounds of the Prismrivers do not carry so far as to reach the pebble-lined beach where Seam and Garie sit, the duo of dolls instead experiencing a sunrise accompanied by breaking waves and the screeching of gulls.
"Hmm..." The old cat squints their button eye, taking a pebble in an unsteady paw and flicking their wrist to send it hurtling out to sea. "There it goes," they idly observe, grinning as it skips over the waves, its ripples cutting through the shining streak of ocean stretched out before them. "Water's got the best look to it when it moves, wouldn't you say? It gleams, glistens, foams, whirls… And now it's ripplin', too."
"Not much of a ripple, is it?" Sharpening her nails in an effort to appear disinterested, Garie undermines herself with a subtle tilt of her head in Seam's direction. "What's the point? It's one pebble in the whole ocean." She shrugs her shoulders, but fails to mask the intrigue in her voice, unsure if this is just the old cat rambling or if there's supposed to be some profound wisdom in their words.
"Point is I like it," comes a matter-of-fact reply. "Like it, wanted to see it, wanted to share it, so I made it happen." Question asked, question answered, the pair return to their silent sitting, their voices yielding the floor back to the waves and the gulls.
There they sit together, a ragged cat enjoying the sunrise and a near-pristine doll waiting upon them, silent and mostly unmoving…
…until a hunk of ice skips across the water, making its own ripples upon the waves. Surprised by the sudden series of splooshes, Seam turns their head, Garie meeting their curious expression with a toothy grin as she tosses another hunk of ice up and down in her hand. "It skips further," she explains, setting the ice in the cat's paw, "if you know the right way to make it."
The old cat assesses the hunk of ice, feeling out its weight in their paw and bringing it close to pore over its shape. One thorough inspection later, with a delighted grin on their face, they give it a toss and discover it does indeed go further than a stone. "Ha! Would you look at that? Don't know about dogs, but you sure can teach an old cat new tricks."
"What, you thought I spent my entire life here and failed to learn any tricks to snow and ice? While you were dabbling in all those magicks, Glasetera's greatest huntress mastered hydrokinesis in all of its forms," she crows, even raising an arm above her head in an arabesque figure as if to crown herself.
To that boast, Seam nods. "Can't say I realized how blind I'm gettin'. Didn't even notice that H'annit usin' any water mag-pbbbtttthhh." A hastily-crafted snowball puts a premature end to the cat's wisecrack, Seam left spitting snow out of their mouth, chuckling some at Garie's quick draw. Amused and unfazed, they go on. "Hmm… but you say you've mastered every form. Is that true? Snow and ice are solid, the waters you ride on are liquid, but… hmm… Isn't there another form they teach the young ones… Yes, I'm sure of it, there was a third…"
"Tch, look around." At Seam dragging it out, Garie rolls her eyes, spreading her arms to indicate the frigid sea lapping at the beach. "I don't need to handle steam. I'm perfectly optimized for my environment like any good deadly predator."
"Perhaps, but humor an old cat for a spell. I ain't curious if you need to. I've only need know if you want to. You think you would like to?"
"Huh? Like to? I don't think about that kind of… I mean… It wouldn't be so bad if I could scald something trying to encroach on my territory… And it's not like someone as intelligent and cunning as me would have any trouble mastering it… So, sure, I guess I would." Something is definitely up with the cat asking this. What's the game? Is she about to get offered lessons?
"I see. Then I suppose that settles the matter!" Cheerfully, Seam reaches inside the fabric of their robes, pulling out some kind of a binder and handing it off to a perplexed Garie. "Like it, want it, you should make it happen. You should go on to Argo. See more of the world. Master steam while you're there."
Sitting there with an unopened binder in her hands, suddenly told she should go to the other side of the world, all she can do is sputter in disbelief. "What? What? Argo? Pleeeeeeease, Glasetera's still going to need someone to defend it, isn't it? And don't try saying you'll fight in my place! Who's even going to get you out of a chair if I'm not around? Don't you still have some big quest to do to get, I don't know, a magical panacea or something?"
The old coot had tried to keep quiet about it for some reason, but she had cottoned on to what was going on, the way Seam's limbs would stiffen up on-and-off, the fact the cat had been struggling to get around some days. Heck, around the new year, their legs had stiffened up nearly entirely. Since then, they'd been able to shuffle around with some strain, but unable to get back up without help if they laid down or sat down.
To her almost indignant, worried sputtering, Seam simply points to the binder. "Didn't you pay attention? Already went on my last big quest."
"Wh-What? I hope for your sake you aren't talking about the New York mission, because…" She trails off as she actually opens the binder, finding that fitted loosely inside is a book, a book which she opens to find… photos, arranged and labeled and dated in a scrapbook format, all including her, some including Seam. Taken aback, she flips through them to find they cover most of 2024, and even go a bit into 2025 before giving way to blank pages. Flipping back to the front and skimming it again, she bombards Seam with a barrage of question. "Wha-What? What is this? How did you take all of these? Why'd you make this?"
"Made it 'cause I wanted to. Doubted you had any memento like it. How? Same way I took the photos and put together that other scrapbook I showed you. What? Hmm… You might say it's a scrapbook, but perhaps… you might also say it's a selfish request. Thought you might go on some big quests of your own, and through this, you could take me on those adventures without me slowin' you down."
She turns the pages more slowly, properly examining the photographs, including a page devoted entirely to learning to cook, but still she remains incredulous. "Don't give me that! You've already been relying on me when you're in a pinch. If I had a problem with it, you'd be floating in a syrup barrel somewhere. You spend your whole life shambling from adventure to adventure, and suddenly now's when you're ready to stop?"
"It ain't that I'm ready to stop. Type of adventure I'm lookin' for has changed, that's all. Had my share of big adventures. Broke out, left behind what I shouldn't've, made a friend I kept dear, battled all kinds of monsters, lost a friend I kept dear, sold some junk, fought in a Brawl, did some more fightin', won a radio, found what I should've never left… Did some good, did some wrong. Got regrets, but I wouldn't trade it all if I could. Now the adventures I want… are seein' the sunrise right at the waterfront, goin' to performances, tryin' a new drink, usin' the time I've got left to enjoy the little joys I overlooked, and hearin' the big adventures of someone else."
A solemn, reflective silence follows Seam's words, the cat looking back out to sea while Garie pores over her gift. Her expression softens, a hint of trepidation and loneliness finally breaking through the mask of self-assuredness she had long worn. "Yeah? So what? You're not doing any of that if you can't get up."
"Don't foresee a problem. Went and made arrangements for a wheelchair, even got in touch with that witch of sand to ask about makin' it durable enough to do magic in."
"Just how long have you been assuming I'll agree to all this?"
"Long enough," Seam replies, conjuring up their own hunk of ice and chucking it, failing to match Garie's distance. Another pause overtakes the pair, the soundscape of the sunrise returning to only the water and the birds as Seam enjoys the break of dawn and Garie loses herself in thought.
Glasetera and the geezer would probably be okay without her…
XXX
Further in the city's interior, the door of a recently-renovated little building swings open. Out into the dim first light of day steps one Jiang Yumei, a manilla folder clutched under her arm as she comes out with her head held high and her chest puffed out. An interview this early was a little bit unusual, but the new travel company springing up to create a steady, sustainable stream of tourists in the absence of the Kobbers was already firing on all cylinders, so it wasn't too inexplicable.
Her mind already racing with plans, she marches off, turning the corner…
"Hey, it's Kogasa's girlfriend! I've been looking for you."
…and encountering none other than Jojora, the ice sprite glancing towards the sky, evidently worried about the time.
"We are not dating yet," she firmly insists, unwilling to let the surprise of the sprite rattle her.
"Yet or now, is there really any difference?" Jojora shrugs, stepping out of the way so Meimei can resume her walk down the street. She joins her on her travels, floating beside her as she goes on her way. She surveys Yumei's tie. "So what's happening here? You get a new job?"
"I haven't signed any contracts yet. This was only an interview, although from what I saw in there, I would guess any other interviews they hold will be formalities."
"Oooh, confident. That's some kind of… tourist-y place. What's there that you like?"
Truth be told? Quite a bit. For one thing, they were looking for someone who could start soon. She'd have just enough time to make a trip back home with a job offer in hand to show any nay-sayers, and having to get back to start would be a good excuse to hurry back to Whalestrand. She'd go back for an extended visit someday, but… when she felt well and ready. The company being a little upstart was reassuring in some ways, too. She could find enough of a footprint on them to allay her suspicions, but she wasn't stepping into some place sprawling enough to have established power struggles. It'd be hard work to get a place like this off the ground, but she didn't mind hard work.
Jojora… doesn't need to know all of the details, though, she decides. "The appeal? I considered it promising because it isn't quite like any job I've had before, but it uses those experiences. There won't be a large staff to begin, so I'll have a lot of direct oversight to do, and cuisine is a major component of travel, so it helps to have a taste for quality in a restaurant. This is also a field which transfers easily, so taking this will provide options other than Whalestrand."
"Huh, so boring practical work stuff. Huh," Jojora reiterates, crossing her arms like she had been hoping for some spicy behind-the-scenes details.
"You said you were looking for me?" Meimei prompts, no time budgeted to amusing the ice sprite today.
"Oh yeah, here." She produces a note with a list of potential DALI events still being workshopped. "I got told to give this to you. It's for if you wanted to mark any days on your calendar early, I guess."
With a nod and a thanks, she pockets the note, watching Jojora fly off somewhere as she carries on with her morning. The dawn's light may be dim, but with her getting herself properly established, her future in Whalestrand's pretty bright.
XXX
At the Admiralty Motel, the Happy Mask Salesman spreads his new masks across the counter for one last look while Hemma Lorenz squares away a very early check-out. His smile never faltering, he nevertheless lets out a sigh as he picks up his meager haul – An Alexandra Mask, a Bojack Mask, a Problem Sleuth Mask, and a Dr. Coomer Mask. Ah, but at least no dark force had followed him here… Perhaps his fortune would hold out for Argo…
"Alright, sir, you're almost all checked out!" Hemma pipes up, sliding a book over to him and speaking over the rattling of the pack on his back. "There's just one final thing. For our records, can you give me your name? Just put it down in that little book there."
Lightly rapping his walking stick against the floor, he shakes his head, throwing up a hand in apology. "Oho, such a thing, it won't be necessary, will it? Surely it will suffice to say a guest stayed here and the duration of that stay."
In response, she puffs out her cheeks and mumbles under her breath, turning briefly to collect herself. When she turns back around, the fresh cheerful smile on her face quickly falls as she shrinks back from the salesman's intense gaze. "Uh, uhm, o-okay, sir, how about this as an alternative? Could you give me your hometown? Just… right there, in the book, give it to me."
"Ohohoho, I think not again" comes a reply, the spirited-but-hollow laugh causing Hemma to flinch.
"F-Fine, Slick, I'll take your mother's maiden name, if you'll wri-" A whap on the head from the salesman's walking stick silences the imposter right quick, the false Hemma furiously rubbing her head as she leaps over the counter and makes a break for the door.
"Oh my, perhaps a ward is in order. It's best to rid any building of meddlesome fey before they become acclimated to it," the salesman mutters to himself as Doopliss runs off into the street.
The disgraced Duplighost takes a sharp turn to get out of sight, running past a very confused and very real Hemma Lorenz as she comes, bearing bags of goodies to stock the candy bowls at the front desk, to begin her shift.
XXX
Much further from the city, at Ishii's airfield, Ishii has beaten her alarm for the fifth day in a row and is applying packing tape to a box labeled "junk". Way to go, Ishii!
While it's not exactly sparkling clean and the hangars still leave much to be desired, Ishii's living quarters show marked improvement in terms of having someone actively tend to them. Rather than left in a jumble, Ishii's bed sports folded and made-up bulky sheets and blankets, and the shelves for her food supply actually have items on them now! No longer is she eating directly out of sacks of potatoes! With the floor recently swept and vacuumed, the notes and schematics which had littered her desk organized into folders, and her old piles of junk she had already stripped for parts getting packed into boxes for transit elsewhere, the place already looks mighty different.
Finishing her packing job, the weary, lanky airfield operator puts pen to paper and strikes a satisfying checkmark through another box on her checklist. There may be unchecked boxes-a-plenty, but she doesn't allow it to daunt her as she dons her cold weather gear, ready to haul these boxes to the cargo hold.
XXX
"We're going over this once only! The network's giving us more leeway now that we've established ourselves, so we're entering Argo's market with four goals – which we will achieve."
Back in Whalestrand proper, early-riser Natasha Nielsen stands in front of a PowerPoint presentation, giving her speech to not only a yawning Tamaki Kotatsu, but a handful of technical and advertising specialists (tuned in via a webcam and a video conference call) who had been assigned to help her reporting reach a broader audience.
"One is self-evident. We need a big scoop, the kind of hard-hitting investigative journalism that moved newspapers decades ago. Two! We're not sitting idly by as journalists. You all saw how Jumbo and his associates were able to shape conversations and the influence they wielded. How we in the media portray nascent movements has an outsized influence on their perceptions, and we must take responsibility for what we amplify. It's on us to get in the trenches and understand what movements we're reporting on – their good, and their ill." Back in charge of a proper crew, if a small and distant one, a real fire burns under Natasha as she gives her presentation, catching up rookies who have no idea what tremendous power media holds. The old commanding vigor in her voice that she held as CEO of Olympia TV has not atrophied in the slightest, Tamaki notes as the crew on the video call hurriedly flip through pages of notes to refresh themselves on Tom Jumbo.
"Three! We're scaling up this operation. Looking at the relative market size of Glasetera to Ulimaroa, we're aiming for a 125% increase in viewer numbers within the first six months. And four!" She clicks ahead to another slide, this one showing a diagram of a busted-up ring. "This is for the boots on the ground to achieve. We're finding the materials and the hands needed to repair this Red Lantern Ring. Any questions?"
On the screen, numerous hands go up, but it's Tamaki's hand shooting up which Natasha chooses to prioritize. "Go," she tells her camerawoman.
Tamaki promptly offers up her question. "Can we get a fifth goal on there? I'm ready to learn graphics editing so we can fine-tune our broadcast!"
"Done," Natasha responds instantly, pointing to the webcam. "Rich, you give her an intensive course over the next three weeks. What else is there?"
As Natasha works her way through the other questions, Tamaki leans back in her chair, stretching out as she anticipates the work to come…
XXX
Off in her own abode, someone else is already up and at it this morning. The television's flashing ceases as Maomao Zheng pauses the broadcast of the old Brawl she had been watching. Tapping a pen against her wrist as Hellcow's visage freezes on the screen, she contemplates its physiology. What could, if necessary, kill a vampiric cow while sparing any non-bovine allies? Aside from possibly the application of concentrated garlic, shindagger plants are best suited to the job, she decides, jotting down the thought before resuming the footage.
She had all her arrangements for Argo already made, so what harm was there in strategizing a bit?
XXX
Down in Olivia's basement, Avital sets a casserole dish on the table, sliding it into one of the few gaps left like it's a tetromino completing a row. She takes a step back and looks over the arrangement, a selection of delectable goodies ranging from miniature sandwiches to popcorn, with a moist chocolate cake as the tantalizing centerpiece.
"Now isn't this a rare sight. To what do we owe this kind of expenditure?" The merchant witch whirls around at the question, finding Olivia turning the corner of the stairwell.
"'s an investment," Avital replies, matter-of-fact in her demeanor. "Thought'd help with the meeting. 's not easy to think of new projects on empty stomachs."
"So I see." Olivia nods, half-convinced there may be some wisdom in Avital's words, and half-wondering how much of this would end up eaten by Avital herself. There may well be a race between the merchant and Shiina to get to that cake first. "I suppose it's in our interest to indulge in a treat now and again. If we fail to celebrate the successes of these past two years, what motivation will there be to aim even higher this year?" As her stomach rumbles, she takes up one of those sandwiches, biting into it with delight. "You've never erred in ensuring your sisters are cared for, Avi."
"Sí, I try."
As Olivia wanders off to finish off her sandwich and complete the preparations for the day's brainstorming meeting, Avital flops into a chair, glancing over to the wall – or more specifically, to the framed photo hanging from it. Sitting there and peering out the photo of Jovita holding up a printed copy of her first formal journal publication, flanked by Ani and Maura, she can't help but crack a satisfied smile.
She certainly did try.
XXX
As morning's light touches Whalestrand, not everywhere has the dawn broken. Across the sea, night still veils the Resort Gorgeous, the peoples of the Sevii archipelago sleeping soundly. Yet at this time when there ought to be stillness, footfalls break the silence in Lady Selphy's home.
Coaxing open the door to the study with all the volume of a skittering dormouse, Sebastian stumbles upon Selphy surveying the bookshelves and merely offers a professional nod of acknowledgement as she catches him in her peripheral vision. "My lady," he whispers, not keen to wake Florin or any of the others, "is some matter troubling you?"
"You may relax," she says in the same hushed tone. Her instruction does not seem to give Sebastian any peace of mind, she notes as he stands there stiff and ready to serve as ever. "No matter troubles me. Enthusiasm alone rouses me. This new venture cannot arrive soon enough."
"My dearest lady, please understand that your excitement brings me sincerest joy, but… are you certain of the timing of this adventure? I have spoken with so many who have expressed their regret to receive word you are leaving us so soon after concluding your last adventure. You are missed dearly here."
"And do not doubt that I miss the others on these islands with equal measure when I am away long, but it is not as though I am departing forever. My time in Argo will be no longer than my time in Whalestrand, and that is true of even my longest estimate. I assure you that any who must contact me with haste will encounter no difficulties. Celio himself came to review the details of Argo's communication networks with me."
Ah, for better and for worse, there truly was no swaying Selphy when she had her heart set upon something. So long as she didn't engross herself in some mystery down there, seeing the land would ideally satisfy her wanderlust, and it wouldn't be too terribly long before she returned for a longer break between her adventures. Already conceding the debate in his own mind, Sebastian bows his head. "In that case, do promise me one thing. You will take care of yourself and you will write often, won't you?"
"You have my word," she replies, the affirmation proving to Sebastian's satisfaction as he departs and leaves her to her reading. In truth, she wouldn't have entirely been opposed to returning, but this year had made her restless. She had been pulled away from Whalestrand too often, and her appetite for adventure had grown more ravenous for it. One year more in a distant land wouldn't cause any harm, and perhaps she could acquire a new team member or two as part of the proceedings.
The islands would be in good hands while she traveled, and Whalestrand would always be able to call upon them if needed. Lostelle had even made mention of making a trip to pick up Francisco, and Jaclyn seemed equally as interested in returning – no trouble would crop up that they couldn't handle!
XXX
Even further to the east, in Agama, the night is even younger. Yet, equally as dutiful as Sebastian, Shinji Ogawa stands ready and waiting when Shirabe Tsukuyomi arrives home.
"It's a pleasure to see you," he says, offering a bow and a warm smile. "You've eaten well. I'll have to send regards to Lanterby and Miyoi." He offers her an embrace, one which she returns, the both of them basking in the warmth and affection of the moment.
As they break apart and begin walking inside, Shirabe makes her assessment. "You aren't eating enough. That's changing, starting today."
Who knew where the world would take her next? Who needed to know? Not her, certainly. As she steps in through that doorway, all she knows – all she needs to know – is that she's looking forward to a nice long break with Tsubasa, Yoshiko, Shinji, and Angellica.
XXX
In Las Vegas, as night falls, Isadora slams a hand down on her desk and pinches the bridge of her nose, the email on her computer screen informing her that her records request had been denied. Once she had seen the compartmentalized nature of the PCR as a sign of good operational security, but these days it was little more than an impediment.
Well, if she couldn't get anywhere with an internal investigation, she could at least keep abreast of whatever Agent Evangeline and Agent Carmine got themselves into…
XXX
All the way back in Whalestrand, though, one room remains shielded from the morning light. With the blinds drawn shut and the alarm not set to go off for another hour, the room's occupants remain undisturbed, tucked together in their sheets, curled up next to one another in bed.
When Aono Morimiya's eyes begin to flutter open, she lifts her head gingerly, only enough to steal a glance at the clock. The thought rolls through her mind that she ought to get up and start preparing for the day, but as she begins to stir, a shudder overtakes her, goosebumps rising on her skin. She retreats into her blankets, dropping her head back onto her pillow – not an actual pillow, but the chest of one Jasmine Nebsolv. Immediately, the tension in her neck eases. Her arm already draped over the witch's stomach, she grips Jasmine more tightly, pulling her even closer so she can bask in her warmth. In the process of pulling her closer, she tenderly kneads her fingers in Jasmine's side, soft and squishable as it is. Not once do Aono's movements disrupt the rhythmic rise and fall of Jasmine's chest, the witch sleeping soundly through her partner's stirring.
It had been a quiet year for them, and she hadn't minded it a bit. It had meant more time to watch movies late into the night, to sit down and read next to each other when the afternoon sun warmed the ground, more time to navigate the intricacies of finding an online marketplace to sell her creations, more meals shared together without interruption, more cuddling on lazy mornings…
Reflecting on the quiet of the year and the quiet of the room, Aono lets her drooping eyelids shut, her body going limp as she drifts back off to sleep, comfortable as can be in her favorite spot in the world – right next to Jasmine.
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