“I have found the missing shirt.” Claire imdiately bowed her head – primarily in Lee’s direction. “It was my mistake. I mindlessly tossed it in with the other black laundry. I apologize deeply for suspecting you for sothing that was my own incompetence.”
“I, uhm, well, it happens,” Lee responded.
John tilted his head. ‘That doesn’t sound right,’ he thought. Mindlessly toss away sothing with his scent on it? Claire? He would sooner believe Scarlett permanently quit smoking. Regardless, that was the explanation given, and the guilty expression on the vampire maid’s face did not appear fake. Then again, he was the one that drove her Charisma into overdrive. ‘Only way to make sure would be to check her thoughts… am I going to do that over a shirt?’ He sighed and shook his head. “Well, I trust you won’t let it happen again.”
“Thank you, Master!” Claire straightened back up. “I will not disappoint. I will not provide discomfort. I will not provide reason for doubt!”
That was all the usual and it did put John at ease. Even if sothing felt off about this situation, if anything was strong enough to overpower his paranoia, it was his love for his girls. The fact that she still was obsessively in love with him was betrayed by the prolonged stare at his naked form. She certainly wouldn’t let any harm co to him or his. That was all he needed to know.
“I will personally oversee your next laundry shift,” Aclysia announced.
The devouring gaze suddenly stopped and Claire hung her head. “Yes, head maid…”
The rest of the harem around paid little attention to the exchange. They were past breakfast and those girls that weren’t already out were either in the showers or napping off post-orgasmic exhaustion. Only the maids were completely present.
“Well, at least that mystery is… resolved?” John turned to Beatrice. “What’s my schedule for today?”
“Reminder: Ahanu and Elu insist you attend the Fire Guidance festival. It is a ceremony following the Sumr Solstice.”
A good opportunity to show the Hidden Tradition he still cared about them and respected their customs. The bigger Fusion got, the more difficult it got to appease all the players that had gotten the Federation started. Best to keep his power base happy. “Is there ti for the eting in the evening?”
“It has been assigned highest priority,” Beatrice assured.
___________________________________________________________________________
A drumming sound was competing with the classical-inspired video ga soundtrack that ran in the background of the large room.
Thump-Thamb-Thump – floor, wall, ceiling, two similar noises encapsulated a slightly different one in their order. The wall had a different thickness than the other two surfaces, was fashioned from a different kind of stone, causing the vibrations to sound ever so slightly different. The golf ball landed in John’s hand and he tossed it again, like he had done for ten minutes now.
The small white sphere had been removed from its resting place. The glass that usually covered it had been put aside, the cushion atop the podium was empty. It was the closest socket of a treasure in the entirety of the room.
Personal treasures and real treasures were both present. In the context of this space, the forr had greater value. Drops of molten tal rested on one cushion, remains of the Construct of Order, the superweapon Romulus had destroyed above Warsaw. A written treaty on the harem’s rules, a simple sheet of paper that held almost more humoristic than sentintal value. Sa held true for the contract that had given him ownership of the Boating Seaquence.
A many-coloured piece of polished glass reminded of the Atlantic Fuse. Next to it was a piece of rubble that he had taken from a forr Thorne building and decorated with a wreath of cables. Another piece of concrete had once belonged to the forr Illusion Barrier Mass Anchor of the Hudson Barrier.
Tokens of old mories, next to new ones. There was a glowing sphere, resembling one of Enki’s stars. A golden rose was next to it, a gift by Moira and her father on Fusion’s second anniversary. A painted picture hung behind it, the image Eliana had worked on when he had visited her atelier recently. She had deed it a failure and started from scratch. John had refused to let it go to waste. Next to it was a carefully crafted stone model of Arkeidos’ final monts. Gno had made it in a flash of inspiration and this was the best place to put it.
Thumb-Thamb-Thumb, the golf ball kept on bouncing.
The latest addition to the room was a photo of the handprint-covered piece of wood that they had created at the end of the vacation. For as long as possible, the original would remain there. It was a reminder of their ti there, simple and happy as it was, and that the retreat would be there if they ever needed it.
All of the treasures in the room, both in terms of emotional and real value, paled in comparison to what John had on the small desk he sat by. Not the shards of Tietan nor the golf ball he kept from his ga against Abraham could compete with it. The little box of polished birch was heavier than anything John had ever held. Its presence created a chasm in his stomach that he could not fill with any degree of logic.
‘She already told she would say yes.’ He tried anyway.
Thumb-Thamp-Thumb, the gold ball did a final round and then stopped in his hand.
The Gar sighed deeply and rolled the ball in his hand. It had only gained in sentintal value since he had picked it up. Originally it was a reminder he was dealing with a hypocrite. Then it beca a reminder that even hypocrites are capable of great things. Finally it transford into an object that helped him think. Whenever he was mulling over sothing difficult, he played with it. It was a golf ball for Abyssals, it could withstand the constant chanical motions.
This, however, it did not help him solve.
Standing up, he walked around the small desk and placed the golf ball back on its podium. The glass was carefully put back on top. His fingers left little sars on the flawlessly translucent cover. He wasn’t in the ntal place to care. All of his thoughts circled around the box.
He had received its content just a bit earlier. eting in secret with two of the most famous smiths of myth was difficult, but with Nightingale’s help he had done it three tis. Once to talk, once to commission, and once to receive the finished product. Months of choosing materials, personally crafting every involved gemstone, and surrendering to his inability to shape certain tals properly had gone into it. In that box lay what bound his past to his future. One ring to change it all.
‘Or change nothing whatsoever,’ John thought and turned the birch box in his fingers. He shook his head. ‘It’ll get closer to being a father at least… isn’t that what I want?’ Almost, he placed the box down with a loud clack. Despite knowing how sturdy it was, he stopped at the last mont and placed it gently on the table.
Right there lay the path to happiness. He already had all the answers needed. He did. He well and truly did. He had every assurance through word and action that everything would go fine. He would propose. He would marry. He would beco a father. ‘With another woman but… that’s all agreed on…’ John tried to joke to himself. The chuckle got stuck in his chest.
Was he ready for any of this?
Was he ready for anything that couldn’t go to plan?
‘I haven’t felt this helpless since… since before all of this,’ John closed his eyes and leaned back in his chair. He recalled himself back then, when friends were a distant concept and flirting with girls the pathway to mockery. It felt like he was at the precipice of destroying what little social life he had. Like he would get himself shad for doing what he knew he needed to do to be happy.
“THUMP!” the loud echo of his fist drumming on his chest echoed through the room. “THUMP!” He did it again. Did it until his ribcage hurt and he finally felt worthy of opening his eyes again. Not allowing himself a single thought, he reached for the smartphone on the table. He punched in a couple of letters. The scarcely called number appeared on his screen. He tapped confirm and waited. The music in the room ceased.
There was only the ‘Tuut-tuuuut’ of the phone.
“You have reached the Hollys?” Regan’s voice reached him from the other side. John wanted to answer, but his mouth was dry. He coughed. “Do I have to cough-drop the call?”
John let out a half-choked laughter. “Your puns are still terrible,” he croaked.
“John!” Regan exclaid enthusiastically. “You have so many phones, I didn’t recognize the number. Have you considered sending faxes instead? As president, you should love things that rhy with ‘axes’.”
By then, John had managed to draw sothing liquid out of his inventory and wet his throat with it. He chuckled again. “Sorry for the sudden call,” he said, “and sorry that I’m not in the mood to banter… this is important.”
“What happened?” Regan’s voice imdiately beca serious.
“I… got the ring.”
The deep breath on the other side was all John heard within the next ten seconds. A sober question ca across the speaker, “So, it’s ti that I give my little girl up completely, huh?”
“I would kindly request so,” John said, respectfully. He and Rave’s father had an up and down relationship. When they first t, the Gar had been a reasonable friend to have. Then the whole harem business started, which her father was mildly disapproving of. Not enough to stop them, just enough to comnt on it. John had brought the news of Rave’s death. Then he had brought her back. Then he had been in opposition to her mother.
Currently, because of John’s attempts to narrow the gulf between Nariko and Rave, he and Regan were on good footing. That neither he nor his wife had the capacity to threaten them out of the relationship had removed much of the resistance against their lifestyle as well. No use complaining about sothing that couldn’t be changed and that had been stable for almost 2 years.
In all ways that were observable, his little girl was already all John’s. Looking at the birch box, John understood what difference this made though. Even if the Abyss did not delve as deeply into marriage as the mundanes had – there was no clearer ritual to signal a change in life.
“…Wait a second, I am putting you on speaker,” Regan stated. There was so bumping, then so shouting.
“Can you hear ?” Nariko asked. It was always a bit odd to hear her over the phone. What differences between the voices of her and her daughter there were, the microphone diminished to nothing. What difference remained was exclusively one of tone.
“Yes… I will propose to Jane.”
“I expected as much.”
“You do have our blessing, for as much that is worth – is that why you called?” Regan asked.
“It’s worth a lot to ,” the Gar assured, then sighed. “No, I called because I wanted to give you a chance to be there. Next week. I’ll rent a mundane bar.”
“A – mundane – bar…?” Nariko’s voice dripped with disapproval.
“My parents will be there and Jane likes bars,” John defended his choice simply. “What would you suggest?”
“…It will do,” Nariko surrendered.
“Do you have the details yet?” Regan asked.
“No, but I will soon. I’ll call you again.” There was just a little chatter afterwards, then they ended the call. ‘Half done,’ John thought with a long sigh. ‘At least I got enough of the nervousness out of my system. Silver lining.’ Without further rituals, he called his own parents.
“Hey, sweetie,” Brenda greeted him imdiately. “Didn’t expect you to call today.”
“Yes, yes, I know, I am a terrible son,” John said jokingly.
“No! You’re just… not that talkative, especially when you’ve announced yourself already… are we still good for next week?”
“Yeah, that’s what I am calling about…” The pause here was deliberate, teasing his mom was one of the little pleasures in life. “…Would you be fine if we changed the venue? I’d like to et in a bar and have a nice evening. My treat.”
“Hmm, well, you do have the money… but what’s the occasion?”
“I’m proposing to Jane.”
“John!” Brenda squeaked in a way that put an imdiate smile on her son’s face. “Lead with that! Ah!” He could hear the excited trampling of a housewife pacing up and down her living room. “Finally! You left the poor girl dangling for so long! Is a bar good enough? Shouldn’t you rent out a five-star hotel? You sure you want us around, ruining the mood?”
“It won’t be a cheap bar, I think the hotel would be overblown, and you won’t ruin the mood. I’ll bring everyone.”
“Including that sweet Nia girl? I still haven’t t her, you know?”
“She’s… sadly the schedules won’t align… you know how it is with trying to get 21 people anywhere.”
“21…” Brenda mumbled the number. “Your dad and I were so overtaken when you said 11 already. Thought you’d grabbed yourself a bunch of vulnerable gold diggers or sothing. You doubled that number and I still haven’t t anyone that’s not lovely. I’ll have so many grandkids!” The cry brought her excitent down a bit. “On second thought, you really shouldn’t hold it anywhere in public. People are going to judge if you start making out with all of your other girls. Did you call the Hollys already?”
“Yes, they’ll be there,” John said. “Or should. I have yet to find the best venue.”
“Oh, I can help with that! I still have the place nas around from all the bars your father’s bosses rent for company outings.” Brenda’s steps now echoed with purpose. “Let just find the box.”
Truthfully speaking, John already had compiled a shortlist of potential places. However, he was not bad enough of a son to deny her the excuse to keep talking with her for longer. Even if he would get engaged several more tis than the average person, this was the first ti. With his first girlfriend and the first woman that his mom had ever seen him with.
The entire phone call, he was smiling.
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