Chapter 6.

18:00, Tuesday, the 30th of April, 2028.

-----

I despised conflict in any amount. I hated awkward meetings, confrontations, long-awaited emotional talks where we spoke about feelings unspoken. Samys, for acting the way she had, had put herself on my permanent shit list.

And I hers, based on the sour looks she kept sending my way when she thought Alys wasn’t looking. They weren’t even subtle, but I didn’t care as long as she kept to her place by Rhys.

Good luck to the guy, I thought, chowing down on a sandwich with too much cheap ham.

Alys was still beside me, reading something on her blocky tablet, mask fluttering with each heavy breath.

I glanced sidelong at her, certain she couldn’t see, and watched how she had to do these awkward full-bodied inhales just to breathe. Even her wings twitched with the breaths, and I wondered if it was an Alys exclusive feature or if all reptiles simply worked like that.

My cheek found my palm as I took my phone back out and opened up Messenger.

I paused, looked around, and opened up my camera.

I then sent the pic to Brie.

James Morris.

> Check it.

> Dragon bday party.

She replied immediately, the bubbles jumping.

Brie Bednarz.

> What?

James Morris.

> Dragon bday party. Friend of mine’s lil bro.

Another quick reply.

> You have a dragon friend?

James Morris.

> Yeah she's really cool. Bad at mopping tho lmao.

Brie Bednarz.

> Didn’t know that. You never said anything about her.

Not an accusation, she wasn’t like that, but I felt, out of the blue, guilty about something.

James Morris

> Ohh yeah. Called- 

My brain paused and then flashed with the spelling. 

> Alys. Reads Beserk.

The messages stopped, but the bubbles remained, bouncing and typing and rephrasing long enough to make my heart begin to thump. I didn’t know why I’d never mentioned Alys; it’d never come up, I told myself, and every time she’d asked how I was doing, I’d said 'fine' or whatever game I was up to.

She'd never mentioned her friends – I didn't even know if she had any.

Which, in hindsight-

Brie Bednarz.

> She sounds cool.

> How come you never mentioned her?

> You two hang out a lot?

The messages refreshed.

> You two hang out a lot together? (edited)

…Hm.

James Morris.

> Nah, not really.

> Asked me last week at work and me and her bro went to Deadman ages back.

>We just talk at work sometimes when it’s slow.

Brie Bednarz.

> Ahh.

> Sounds like you’re close.

> What’s she like?

James Morris

> Chill. Kinda quiet.

I looked over at Alys, as if that’d give me more.

> Wears a mask and has some really bad scars.

I snorted, remembering.

> Fucking loves eggs tho lol.

She looked to me, a ridged brow raised. I pretended to look sheepish and nodded down at my phone. “Reading messages,” I said. "My girlfriend said something funny.”

Her eyes shot open, even the slow, milky one. And then, cautious. “You didn’t say you had a mate.” It almost seemed like she'd pulled away before taking a moment. “Girlfriend means mate, right?”

Ding.

“Yeah, she does primary school education,” I said. “Smart.”

Brie Bednarz.

> K.

> You never talk about your coworkers.

“A matriach, then?” Alys asked. “Teaching the young ones?”

> I’m glad you’re close with someone.

“She sounds good.”

> Can’t remember the last time that happened.

“I like her.”

I swallowed, my brain momentarily scrambled. 

And I picked Alys to reply to, because it felt easier.

Fewer questions, less pressure. “Yeah, Brie’s really cool,” I said, ignoring another ding. “Met in English class ages back.” Another one, my gaze flicked over, but I was too curious. “...Have you got someone?”

I’d wondered in my head about it. How it worked for them.

She’d never mentioned a partner, though I wasn’t exactly in a position to judge.

Her ears flicked up, mask shifting before she reached up to adjust it, expression suddenly hard to read. “Hah. No. A long time ago, a little, but not… now, no. Quiet drake. Not together anymore.”

Another notification.

“Sorry,” I say, putting my phone down properly. “I-I didn’t mean to pry. If it’s personal, I don’t-"

“It’s okay, it’s just been a long time since I even thought about it.” The lull that followed was tense, and I could see that she knew that. Could see how her mask shifted as she pulled a face. But then she sat back, and I could practically feel the mischievous grin in her eyes.

“It’s been a pretty long time. Haha!” Said in not her low, quiet voice, but instead mine.

Down to the slight vocal fry I always tried to keep out of my words.

I actually flinched.

Full-bodied, heart-pounding.

“What the hell?”

She laughed, loud and chirpy, a sharp contrast to how quiet she'd gotten. “Good, right?” Alys asked, wings fluttering once before calming. “I’m very good at doing male voices.”

“...How?”

“Biology.” The dragon nodded, sat back, then forwards, then calmed down, like an excited kid. And then she did Tom – “James, make sure you clean up properly; otherwise we'll have to kill you. These health standards are vital!” Pitch perfect, it left me still reeling. “Alys, stop– stop grilling and go do the thing in the dining room I refuse to tell you about!”

“Oh yeah!” I shouted, cringing when a woman with a bob haircut turned to glare at me. “H-He didn't tell you how to do it, did he? Go do dining room. What's dining room? Uhhh, just do the grill! ”I shook my head but was too weak to stop the smile. “He's alright, but Jesus… so lazy.”

“Yeah…” She exhaled, tail swishing behind her. “At least you're okay.”

I wasn't, I thought, thinking back on all the times I'd seen her struggle and done nothing.

“I could show you,” I said, taking another bite of my cold sandwich so it wouldn't show the cold I suddenly felt. “Next time we're in, I mean. Bit of a waste of lunch, but I don't mind.” I'd be able to tell Sarah, too, get her to think me cool.

I could even tell Brie, I said to myself. She'd like that, thinking I'd done good and done something.

Oh.

I took my phone back out, realising I'd accidentally been ignoring her.

Brie Bednarz.

> K.

> You never talk about your coworkers.

> I’m glad you’re close with someone.

> Can’t remember the last time that happened. She must be special (edited)

>

> Sorry.

> That sounded mean. I'm just surprised lol.

I'd had three pings but saw only two messages and a sorry, which… worried me.

Annoyed me a little, too, but I ignored that.

I didn't ignore that she was talking more than she ever did, and it was over someone else. I also didn't ignore why she might've become so suddenly invested in Alys.

It made no sense to me, so I didn't even bother worrying.

James Morris.

> Nah you're good

> Special?

> Not really. She's at my work so we chat sometimes.

I could guess that maybe she was side-eying me, as dumb as that sounded.

She didn’t reply after that, and Alys busied herself with turning away, paw over her cheek as she ate. Jarys, her younger brother, was playing with his friends, and I found myself realising that nearly all of them were humans.

In fact, nearly everyone present was one, too.

Sure, there was the odd blue dragon with some family resemblance, but it struck me as odd.

“Your parents coming?” I asked.

“No.”

My heart kicked at the dull tone.

"...Rhys and Jarys’ father left after their hatching, and our mother is… not in the picture.”

“Sorry. Seriously, shit, I didn’t mean to bring that up. I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”

She shook her head and tightened the straps of her mask. “There’s no possible way you could have known,” the dragon muttered, crimson eyes focusing in on Jarys. “And my own father has no interest in either me or my siblings.”

I nodded, tight-lipped, knee bouncing anxiously. “Your dad? Oh. Right. Uh, yeah, my brother has a different mum, so I… yeah. Kinda get it.”

A beat passed.

And then she chuffed, arched a brow. “You couldn’t tell?” More surprised than I was expecting.

“Tell? Tell what?”

She raised a forepaw and tapped the side of her masked snout with a prosthetic talon. But then her eyes glanced down, bog-eyed as she tried to inspect her own nose. “Oh… Mask. You can’t see. And you can’t tell just by the horns.”

“I’m confused.”

“...Hah.”

“Hah?” I sat up. “Don’t hah at me, you little shit. Explain.”

Head tilted back, angled away. “No. You’ll have to figure it out.” Her wings stretched, casting a harsh shadow. There was something in her eyes, something light, like she’d figured something out. “It’s more fun.”

“Fine, fine.” I threw my hands up. “You can figure out the dining room shift by yourself.”

A short, chirping laugh followed before she turned away once again to eat.

I looked again.

It was only for a second, and I couldn't see anything, but she caught me.

“You’re very obvious.” A pause. Her sharp eyes crinkled, the scars around the white one pulling tight. “Am I really that interesting, or is it merely the mask?”

My chest flushed hot, and I turned away instantly, hand on my mouth as shame burnt through me.

“Wasn’t staring,” I muttered, too quick to sound convincing. “Just… thinking.”

Her eyes bore into me. Not buying it.

“Right,” she said lightly.

I looked down at my sandwich, then back at her, then away again. "It's–" I gestured vaguely, immediately regretting it. “The mask. Mostly. I mean– not like–"

Smooth.

Her tail flicked once.

“...Mostly?” she echoed.

I huffed a laugh under my breath, rubbing at my face. “You’re making it weird.”

“I’m not doing anything,” she said, and there was that same lightness again, caught at the edge of something sharper. “You’re the one staring at me.”

Chin in palm, pulse still pounding, I held her gaze. “I think I preferred it when you didn’t talk very much.”

"Well-"

My phone started ringing. Alys stopped, all of the energy fading as her eyes fell onto the device, like she’d been caught doing something she shouldn’t.

I flipped it over, found it was Brie and got up. “One sec.”

“Okay.”

I stepped away from the table and found a quiet spot in the hallway, where I-

Hesitated.

And hated that I had to brace myself.

"Heya," I opened after hitting accept and propping myself up against a wall. “How’s school?”

“Good, good,” Brie said, accent wobbling the words slightly. “At home now, doing some coursework on my laptop. Kinda boring.” A small pause. “How about you? That party okay?”

“Yeah, yeah.” My free hand tapped lightly against the wall of the pub. “There was some drama with Alys’ cousin over cupcakes, but it’s pretty alright. Bit dead, though. He’s ten, so there’s not much I can do. Not even sure the bar’s open.”

“Heh.” I could hear her shift in her chair, fabric brushing faintly against the mic. “Bar, yeah… Remember when we got blitzed at, uh, Morgan’s?”

The name snagged on something loose in my head.

“Morgan? Not really, no. When was that?”

“The last month of sixth form. He got a barrel, and his parents were pissed. You threw up on his sofa.” She laughed, softer than I expected, though tainted with nerves.

Like it mattered that I'd remembered.

I tried to grab it. Did my best. Nothing.

“Uhh… sorry, I’ve no clue.” I winced, pushing off the wall for a second before settling back. “I-I mean… maybe? Doesn’t ring a bell. Sixth form was like… what, five years ago? I can’t even remember what I did last week.”

There was a small gap. Not very long. Merely noticeable.

…

“...Oh.” A quiet breath. “Yeah. Guess it was a while ago.”

“P-Plus, you know how bad my memory is,” I added, too quick.

“Mm. I know.” Not sharp. Not quite flat either. 

Just… filed down. Tired.

My fingers tapped again, slower this time. “So-”

“You want to head out next week?” she cut in, faux-light again, like she’d decided something. “We could go to Tattu’s. Split the bill and have a nice evening. It’ll be like before.”

“Oh-” I straightened a little. “Oh yeah, that sounds really nice.” I forced a bit more energy in. “You want me to reserve a table? What time are you off? I’m good next week, just working a couple days.”

“Next Wednesday is perfect for me. How about you?”

“I work that day, but- um, you want to do four? I finish at three.”

“Four’s good.” A small pause, then a hint of a smile in her voice. “Could go see that new Superman. I’ve been wanting to.”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m down.”

“And…” Another tiny hesitation. Softer. “Could even wear that white dress. You like that one; I’ll remind you.”

“Shit.” I let my head fall back against the wall, grinning despite the awkward knot in my chest. “Yeah, do that. Please. I’ll even pay.”

"Hey", she said, a quiet laugh under it, “don’t beg already. I haven’t even done anything yet.”

“Planning to, though,” I said.

“Maybe. Depends on how you behave.”

...

...

...The flow of the conversation halted immediately after that. There was no easy, smooth banter, no bounce to it.

And I hated how I noticed that, how it made it so much worse.

Why couldn’t we talk? I thought, teeth grinding.

What was happening?

What wasn't?

“Right, I can see-”

“I need to head off,” she cut in. “Wednesday. Four. Don’t be late.”

“I won’t,” I said, straightening a little.

We both said our goodbyes, with her hanging up first.

My eyes closed and I was left with one striking thought.

That hadn’t gone great.

#

When I walked back in, chest hollowed out, Alys smiled at me. A small thing, one visible even through her mask, but it was just so easy. There was nothing to it – no shared history I hated remembering, no tension over texts or college or forcing myself to think of things to say.

But I didn't sit down quite yet. I looked and saw that the bar was in fact open and headed over to it, needing a distraction to fix how awkward I still felt.

There was a short queue, and in that queue was Samys.

I wondered how she'd even hold a glass.

“Hey, Sam,” I began.

Her head whipped around so fast I nearly jumped.

“Do not call me Sam. Nobody gets to call me that. You call me Samys or Seath-” Pause. “You call me Samys. Am I understood, Jamie?”

“...Seath?” Was all I could say to that.

Her wings, sharp and sleek, twitched by her sides, the long fingers tapping against her underplating. “Samys,” she ground out, like I was a slow child poking at her.

The line moved forward. “Is it your last name or…?”

“Old name.”

“Ok.”

Silence.

Side-eye.

Shuffle forward.

“I’m sorry about the cupcakes,” I said at last, unable to take the quiet – it was too much for even for me. “I should have googled it. I forgot you're all not like me, and that's on me.” Her tail lagged to one side, the thin end stuttering. “Jarys seems really sweet.”

I didn't even know why I'd bothered speaking.

“He is.” She adjusted her posture, standing tall. “And yes, you should have done some research. We aren't simply… scaly humans.” Her lips curled, and for a moment I braced for barbs and thought of counters. “But I can appreciate a creature able to admit its faults. Thank you.”

“Creature?” I squeaked, caught off guard.

She huffed, half-laughing, eyes wide.

“You remind me of another human," she said. "He also make funny noises.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah.”

A lag.

"Is- Is that a compliment?” I tried.

The line moved.

“He's good,” Samys said, neutrality swapped in exchange for a wistful, distant smile. Like it pained her. “Funny. Tries very hard to flirt and isn't entirely bad at it, but…" She glanced away. "Well – He's lacking the one thing I look for in a partner.”

“Scales?” I tried, mostly joking.

Her gaze sharpened. “Smarter than you look too.”

At last, she reached the front of the line, where all she asked for was a single mug of water, to which the server, after confirming, gave her. I got myself a half-pint of whatever cheap fruit cider they had on tap and-

“Hey, you guys can have alcohol, right? You won't explode or something?” I quickly asked Samys as she began to walk away, lips shining with water. She said yes and nothing more, so I got two and carried both back over to the table, where I found only Rhys and someone vaguely familiar.

Dark skin, neck-length hair, painted nails and a stud in his left ear.

Punky, in a word.

But I couldn't place exactly where I knew him.

“Oh, hey,” he said, raising a hand in greeting. “Wasn’t expecting to see you here. You know Alys, too?”

Rhys leaned in quickly, whispering something in his ear.

“Sort of.” I started on my drink. “We work at the same restaurant. You know her?’

He took a seat, Rhys close beside him. “Oh… nah, not Alys. I work at Dead Ink with Rhys. Comic place on Main Street." He sipped on a carton of grape juice. “I've seen you a few times.”

It clicked. He was the young one arguing with the older guy about dragon wages.

Or was it subsidies? I couldn’t remember.

“My, uhh, my pin!” I recalled, slipping my backpack off and spinning it around to show off the xenomorph. “Sorry, completely slipped my mind.”

“Why’d you get two drinks?” Rhys asked, levelling a claw at the glasses. "Is it cheaper than a full pint?”

“What?” I looked down, then back up. “Nah, nah. Second one’s for Alys.” I’d somehow forgotten I’d done it, along with the why.

And, somehow worse still, I wasn’t pressed for it. Rhys hummed non-commitally and got back to talking with his friend whilst I quietly sipped my drink and watched as a new dragon approached us.

Unlike the others, she didn't look at all like Alys.

Brown scales, lithe, and with the strangest eyes I’d seen, even on a dragon. Blue, with a series of rings that encircled slit, reptilian pupils. Even Rhys looked lost as she joined us at the table, his lip quirking.

He shuffled closer to Eric, blocking him.

“Hello, Rhys,” she began, voice sweet as honey. “Where's your sister?” And then the pitch twisted – curious, innocent, and desperate – like we had to tell her.

It was important.

To her, to us, to everyone in the room.

I opened my mouth.

“I'm here; calm down. I was using the restroom.”

Alys barged past her to sit between me and Rhys, her expression piercing, wings loose to her sides, almost raised. “Why are you here, Neirin?”

The new dragon sat down at what passed for the head of the table, long tail curled around her forepaws. “I am the Empress-"

“In training", Alys cut in.

The perfect poise cracked and a snarl broke on Neirin’s features. “That doesn't matter. I'm the representative for now, and I'm here to do my job.” She stood up fully. “Where's the pyre, anyway?”

“On the cake.” Rhys nodded in the direction of the long dining table. “We aren’t allowed to do an actual pyre, Empress.” He spoke with the candour of someone paying attention but not respect. Like whatever the title meant was simply decoration.

“I know,” she snapped, and the word twisted as it travelled through the air before crashing into us, making me flinch and my ears ring. “I’m not a fool.” And then she looked to me, spiral eyes locked onto mine. “Human, vodka and orange juice, would you please?”

Please?

“Please, James. Just listen. Just this once. For me?”

Said in a voice like my mother’s, I got to my feet, unthinking, stumbled away, and…

Smack.

The sound of scale on scale knocked me out of whatever – whatever that was – and when I turned to the source, I found Alys with a muscular forelimb raised, scarred paw open.

Neirin had her head bowed to one side, blue eyes wide with shock and indignation. She stumbled back before whipping back around, wings spread and fangs bared.

But she was too slow.

Another slap.

Not a scratch, or a bite or even a punch. 

No. 

A slap. A casual, deadpan smack.

“Don’t do that,” Alys said, putting her leg back down, not at all bothered. “It’s rude.”

Neirin reared back, eyes blazing and claws unsheathed. Her posture was low but guarded, wings spread flat.

“B-B-Back off!” The words caught and broke on the way out, pitching higher than she probably intended. It wavered, slipped, and then steadied too late to sound like anything but forced.

Alys didn’t move.

Didn’t rise, didn’t bare teeth, and didn’t even shift her weight. She just looked at her, head slightly tilted, like she was trying to place a sound she hadn’t heard in a while.

“…You okay?” Alys asked, voice flat.

It landed wrong.

Neirin’s wings hitched mid-spread, the tension in them faltering as if someone had cut a wire. Her claws flexed against the wood of the table, scraping faintly. For a second, she looked like she might lunge anyway – commit to the posture.

Instead, she swallowed.

“I am- I am f-fine,” she said quickly, the words stepping over each other. “I am the– the Em– Em–"

She stopped.

Her jaw worked, teeth pressing together, eyes squeezing shut for half a second like she could force the word out clean if she just tried.

"Empress", she finished, but it came out thinner, smaller.

“I see." Alys nodded, confirming something. “You just sound like that.”

A stutter, I realised, sitting back down, doing my best to blend into the background.

Heat flushed under her scales, visible even from where I stood. It crept up from her throat to her cheeks, a darkening ripple that didn’t match the authority she was trying to hold onto.

Her eyes flicked, quick and sharp – Alys, Rhys, and I. Too many people. Too many witnesses.

She straightened.

Pulled something else over herself.

“I am the acting Empress,” she said again, and this time the words slid into place too smoothly. The pitch dropped, the cadence slowed, and the stutter was erased entirely. It wasn’t solely confidence – it was fake. “You will show appropriate respect.”

She sounded older, I thought, remembering how perfectly Alys had mimicked my own voice.

Not by much, but enough. Enough that even I could tell it didn’t quite belong to her.

Could all dragons do this? I wondered.

Alys’ brow lifted a fraction.

“…Right,” she said. "Are you done?”

The shift cracked.

Not loudly. Not dramatically. Just a thin fracture running straight through the performance.

Neirin’s wings twitched, the edges of that controlled posture fraying. Her throat moved again, like she was about to reassert it, double down.

“Sit down before you make it worse.”

Samys’ voice cut across the table, clean and unimpressed.

I hadn’t even seen her come back.

She set her mug of water down with a soft, deliberate clink and slid down into a sitting position like it was just another interruption to be managed. Her gaze passed over Neirin once, assessing, then settled somewhere beyond her.

“Breathe,” she added, taking the glass in both claws. “You’re pushing too hard. It sounds strained.”

Neirin froze.

For a moment, the only movement in her was the shallow rise and fall of her chest.

“I am n-not-” she started, the stutter back immediately now that the other voice had dropped. “I’m not-”

“You are,” Samys said. “Sit.”

A longer pause this time.

Neirin’s claws curled inward, then released. Her wings, still half-spread, faltered again before folding in on themselves, tight and close to her back.

Slowly, stiffly, she lowered herself back down.

Not graceful. Not controlled. Just… a teenager, if I guessed right, sitting down too hard and pretending it was intentional.

Alys watched her for a second longer, then huffed under her breath and settled back as well, the whole thing likely already filed away as irrelevant.

Rhys didn’t comment. His friend didn’t either.

No one acknowledged what had happened.

The table absorbed it, like it was something that happened often enough not to need remarking on.

Neirin stared down at the table for a moment, jaw set, breathing still uneven. Then, like she needed something to do with her paws, she reached out and grabbed one of the sandwiches Eric had gathered.

Her movements were tight. Measured. Overcorrected.

She took a bite.

Chewed.

Swallowed.

“I am h-here,” she said after a moment, her voice quieter now. Hers. Entirely hers, stutter and all. “To ob-observe.”

She paused, lips pressing, fangs peeking over as she searched for the next word.

“The h-hatchling", she managed, then quickly, like she was trying to outrun something, “the lighting of the- the py- pyre.”

“The candle,” Rhys said, not even looking at her.

Her jaw tightened again.

“…The pyre,” she repeated, more stubborn than certain.

Samys took a sip of water, entirely unbothered.

“Mm.”

Neirin hunched slightly over her food after that, wings tucked in close, tail curling tight around the leg of the nearby chair like it had nowhere else to go. She took another bite, then another, chewing like she needed to focus on it to keep everything else steady.

Every so often, her eyes flicked up.

Quick. Sharp. Gone again just as fast.

Towards my drink, towards Alys.

Alys didn’t acknowledge it.

She reached for her drink – the one I’d brought back without thinking – before pausing. “James, why do you have two drinks?”

“Oh, they had an offer on,” I lied. “Figured you’d want to try it.” Then, forcing a grin, I leaned in close. “I even asked Samys if it was safe for you guys.” To which she snorted, quick and unguarded.

“Sweet, but I think she wants it,” she whispered, eyes flicking over to Neirin, who turned away and ate another one of the cheap finger sandwiches.

Taking a breath, I sat up straighter. “Neirin,” I asked, catching her gaze. “How old are you?”

Her wings fluttered, tongue flicking out. “Sev-Seventeen.”

Close enough.

I slid the remains of my drink over to her – too sweet for me anyway – and sat back down. Samys gave me a look, but I shrugged it off. “It’s a cider, it's weak, and everyone's seventeen once.” I sat back down just in time to watch Alys take her first sip.

It was an effort. She had to use both paws to hold it properly, and the prosthetics scraped the glass, but when she tilted it back –

Mask.

Her eyes fell, downtrodden.

Her claws were trembling.

Rhys got up, hurried away, and came back with a straw.

“Here,” he said, already pushing it toward her before she could protest.

Alys blinked, then took it, adjusting her grip on the glass. The prosthetic talons clicked softly as she steadied it, angled the straw beneath the edge of the mask, and took a small, subtle sip.

Her shoulders dropped a fraction.

"Thanks," she murmured, voice low again, back in that quiet register she defaulted to when she wasn’t trying.

“Mm,” Rhys replied, already sitting back down like it was nothing.

Across from them, Neirin had gone very still.

Not tense anymore. Watching.

Her sandwich hovered halfway to her mouth, forgotten. Her eyes tracked the small, practical adjustment, the way it had been handled without comment, without spectacle. Something in her expression shifted, subtle but real.

Then she caught me looking.

Her gaze snapped down immediately, too quick, and she shoved half the sandwich into her mouth like that had been the plan all along.

I snorted under my breath.

Smooth.

She chewed, swallowed, then reached, hesitated, and finally took the cider I’d slid her earlier.

She turned it in her claws first, inspecting it like it might bite back.

“Y-You said-” she started, then stopped and recalibrated. “It’s- it’s l-light?”

“Basically juice,” I said. “You’ll live.”

Samys made a quiet noise that might’ve been disapproval or might’ve been boredom. Hard to tell with her, especially when she didn’t bother to look up from the mug, turning it slightly between her claws like she had all the time in the world and none of it was worth spending on this.

But I wasn’t watching Neirin anymore.

I was watching Alys.

She took another sip – less anxious, less careful about the angle – and for a second nothing happened. Just that same measured posture, that same controlled, deliberate movement she used for everything, like even drinking had to be negotiated.

And then it hit.

Her snout scrunched up beneath the mask, the fabric shifting sharply as her whole muzzle reacted at once. Eyes squeezing, brow muscles pulling tight, and the smallest hitch in her breath as if the taste had caught her off guard entirely.

It wasn’t subtle, wasn’t something she could smooth over, just a full, instinctive recoil that she clearly hadn’t expected to show.

Her wings twitched, a quick, reflexive flick, and for a second I thought she might actually spit it out.

She didn’t.

She swallowed, forced it down, and just as quickly pulled herself back together; her posture straightening, expression flattening, and mask settling as if nothing had happened at all.

Totally cool.

“…It’s fine,” she said, voice level.

I stared at her for a beat, then let out a short laugh I couldn’t quite stop. “Oh my god. You hate it.”

“I do not,” she replied immediately, too quick.

“You made a face like it kidney-punched you.”

“It’s… unfamiliar,” she amended, slower this time, like she was choosing the word carefully. “I don’t usually have sweet things. Or alcohol. Or… anything like this.”

“It’s cider,” I said, still half-laughing, leaning back in my chair. “It’s straight up apple juice.”

She glanced at the glass again, then back at me, then – after a moment – took another sip, bracing for it this time. Her haunches tightened slightly before she drank, like she was preparing for impact, and when she swallowed, there was still that tiny flicker around her eyes, that same suppressed reaction she couldn’t quite kill.

“It tastes… wrong,” she said.

“Wrong how?”

“Like apples, like you said.” She paused, then added, more pointedly, “but bad.”

That got me again. I huffed out another laugh, shaking my head as I looked away. “You’re drinking it like medicine.”

“If I stop, you’ll keep talking,” she said flatly, taking another small, angry sip. “This is the faster solution.”

“Fairs.”

She kept going anyway, slow, measured, clearly not enjoying it but committed now in a way that felt less about the drink and more about not giving me the satisfaction.

It caught in her throat, her eyes bulging, and with that she practically shoved the glass away.

“F-Fuck your fairs.”

I wheezed, and she looked about ready to kill me for it, ears hot.

Across the room, someone clapped loudly, sharp enough to cut through the low hum of conversation.

“Cake!” a voice called, bright and insistent. Rhys, probably.

Saved by the bell.

The shift was instant. Kids pulled away from wherever they’d been scattered, voices rose as they crowded toward the long table, Jarys dragged along in the middle of it by two of his friends who seemed far more invested in the moment than he was capable of processing all at once.

He didn’t resist, though. If anything, he leaned into it, a grin already spreading across his stubby muzzle like he’d been waiting for it all day.

Which, to be fair, he probably had been.

I pushed my chair back, standing without really thinking about it. “C’mon,” I said, glancing at Alys.

She hesitated only briefly before getting up as well, wings shifting slightly to avoid knocking anyone over as she moved. Rhys was already on his paws, heading over with the kind of casual familiarity that made it clear it wasn’t anything new.

The table filled quickly, bodies pressing in, voices overlapping. Someone dimmed the lights just enough to matter, just enough to make the candles stand out once they were lit, though they hadn’t been yet.

Jarys was pushed to the front, hands hovering awkwardly at his sides, eyes flicking between the cake and the small crowd gathered around him.

“Go on,” Rhys urged. “Show them.”

“Wait,” I said, leaning slightly toward Alys. “Show them what?”

She didn't answer. She nudged me.

“Watch.” Was all I got.

Jarys took a breath.

Not a dramatic one. Not the kind you’d expect if you didn’t know better. Just a sharp inhale that seemed to pull his whole frame in tight, chest expanding as something shifted in the air around him.

Subtle, barely visible, like a pressure change more than anything else.

Then he exhaled.

Fast.

It happened so quickly it almost didn’t register at first – a faint distortion, tinged green, like heat rushing through a narrow line straight from his mouth to the cake – and then, with an audible click of his teeth, it caught fire.

A clean stream of fire snapped into existence, bright and controlled, not a burst or a flare but a precise, practised line that hit the candles in a single go. It looked almost fake in its neatness, like something engineered rather than breathed; the gas ignited so quickly it became that seamless, continuous flame.

Every wick lit at once.

He cut it immediately, mouth snapping shut, the fire gone as if it had never been there.

For a second, there was only this quiet, stunned pause.

Then the room broke into cheers.

Clapping, laughter, someone whooping too loud in the back as Jarys stood there beaming, chest heaving slightly, eyes wide.

I blinked, still staring at the cake. “…Right,” I muttered under my breath. “Sure.”

Beside me, even Alys celebrated. Jumping up, wings flapping, eyes wide and smile wide enough that I saw the edges of sharp, needle-like teeth peek past. Along with a flicker of deeper scar tissue I ignored.

Someone started singing, off-key and uneven, but loud enough that everyone joined in anyway. Jarys rocked slightly on his paws, soaking it up, and when it ended, he leaned forward and blew the candles out the boring way, smoke curling up in thin lines.

I pulled my phone out without thinking. “Can I get a picture?”

Rhys shrugged. “Yeah, go on.”

Alys hesitated for a second, then gave a small, reluctant nod. “Please… don’t make it strange.”

“As if,” I said, already stepping back and angling the camera.

“Alright, everyone in – yeah, you too –”

Rhys leaned in without fuss, dragging Eric close by the back of his coat. A couple of the others followed, shuffling closer, half-awkward, half-used to it. Even Neirin edged into frame at the side, like she didn’t want to but wasn’t willing to be left out either.

Alys hovered for a moment longer, then stepped in beside me, close enough that I noticed the heat off her scales, the faint shift of air as her wings settled tighter to make space.

“Ready?” I asked.

A scatter of agreement.

I raised the phone.

Snap.

“Alright, one more. Jarys, with the cake.”

He darted forward immediately, rushing to the front of the cake. Crouched slightly, angling the shot lower as he leant in, grin wide and unfiltered.

“Hold still.”

Snap.

That one was better. Clear. Bright. He and the cake, candles still smoking.

“And-” I straightened, turning just in time to catch Alys trying to sneak out of frame. “One more.”

She was too big to. Taller than the others, broader, too.

Everything about her stood out.

She froze.

“…J-James,” she whined.

“Just one,” I said, already raising the phone again.

A visible, reluctant sulk was all I got before she stopped moving.

“Fine.”

She stood there, immediately awkward in a way that was almost painful to watch – bulky shoulders too tight, wings unsure where to rest, and tail giving a small, restless wag behind her. Her eyes didn’t quite settle anywhere, drifting just off the lens like she couldn’t quite bring herself to look directly at it.

Whether that was her camera shyness or the bad one, I didn't know.

“Just stand normally,” I said.

“I am standing normally.”

“You look like you’re about to confess to something.”

“I don’t know what you want me to do,” she said, sharper, almost offended.

“Nothing. That’s the point.”

She stilled, trying to follow that, trying to find whatever nothing was supposed to look like for her.

It didn’t quite work.

I smiled despite it and took the shot.

The picture caught her mid-adjustment; something unguarded and silly slipping through in that split second before she figured out how she was supposed to present.

I lowered the phone. “Done. I'll send these over to Rhys.”

She exhaled, tension dropping from her shoulders immediately. “Good.”

I glanced down, flicking through them quickly, then hit upload without overthinking it – a quick caption, nothing serious, something that didn’t matter.

Posted.

“Alright,” I said, slipping the phone back into my pocket. “That’s going online.”

Alys blinked, like she hadn’t quite processed that part. “Online?”

“Yeah.”

A beat.

“…Right.”

She didn’t ask anything else, just reached for her drink again, hesitating only briefly before taking another careful sip of the drink she hated through the straw, her expression tightening as the taste hit her again.

I watched her for a second, then something clicked.

Brie’d see that.

The thought came and went as quickly as it arrived, more of a flicker than anything else. It wasn’t like I’d posted anything weird. It was just a picture. Group shot, kid with a cake, coworkers. Normal.

I shrugged it off easily.

She’d probably comment something like ‘Looks fun', and that’d be that.

No point overthinking it.