Elara Pranks and Flusters

Characters: Elara, Mia

Location: Fellward

Date: August 10 2021 (Approximately)

Summary: Elara, afflicted with the effects of Max's firefly blessing, pranks Mariette and her roommates and then is utterly flustered by an encounter with Mia.

A girl walks through the dark and stinking alleyways on the worst side of town at night, golden-furred dog padding loyally at her side. She fits in just fine, just another hungry human in the dark and the depths.

Until a leaking condom gets flung out of the shadows and she lithely sidesteps, the stinking ammunition going wide. “Seriously, ya fuckin’ shits?” That accent isn’t local. “I’m ‘ere to *talk*.”

That earns cackling from around her. Elara rolls her eyes as goblins reveal themselves. “Bitching cunt,” one of them tells her. “What didja *think* would happen when you came round here, huh?”

“Exactly this, you bloody wankers.” Elara glares at him. “Seriously, do we ‘ave to go through the fucking rigmarole *every* fucking time?”

“Get her!”

Elara just sighs as weaponised trash starts to arc towards her. “Apparently so,” she mutters to herself.

The fight doesn’t take long, if fight is even the right word. Elara scrapes muck off herself, making a face, while a goblin whimpers under Max’s paw. The dog pants cheerfully, looking happy as a clam.

“Can we deal now?” Elara asks impatiently. “Fucking ‘eck, I’m just wanting to know from you who the fucking justified targets around ‘ere are. It’s not that fucking complicated.”

The goblin who’d called her a cunt looks pissed, but he nods reluctantly. “Fine, you bitch,” he mutters. “We can fucking talk.”

The sun is high in the sky by the time that Elara manages to finish her deal with the goblins. There were some things which an expert climber could find and collect that goblins struggled with, which Elara considered an acceptable trade for telling her who here could be safely filched from without her karma going into the tank. Fifty American dollars; that should get her what she was after.

Elara always wonders, when she passes a Toys R Me, what the place was actually coloured - because something about it, even in grayscale, still gave off the vibe of *fashion disaster.* Not that she cared, but, like - what?

The bell rings as she slips in, her mask off, Max patiently waiting at the door, and Elara carefully avoids the daylight slipping in through the windows. Deeper into the store, Elara ignores the dolls staring down creepily and the fellow customers, who ignore her in turn. There's no sidelong glances or careful sliding away, none of the weirdness Elara's grown accustomed to. Its pleasant as she searches through the plushes.

Her first selection is easy. A centipede. *Pink* reads the tag, and Elara shrugs; she hopes it isn't too eyewatering a shade. Her second choice is harder, and Elara hesitates for long minutes between an *Indigo Neko!* and a *Rainbow Owl!* before making a hissing noise and snatching up a *Russet Raven* - what the hell kind of colour is russet? Is that a shade of blue?

There. The important part done. Now the *fun* part.

Elara grins as she collects up a bag of little tiny tiny *tiny* plushes - snakes, cats, birds, dogs, aardvarks, minks, moles, pandas, penguins... just an absolute pile of tiny little things. Smiling to herself, Elara takes it to the counter, and pays for her delightful little haul.

The cashier doesn't even comment on how she looks weird.

Elara's forced to leave Max behind as she enters Calvarn. She fusses over him before she does, making sure he has stuff to entertain himself - one of the precious tiny plushes is sacrificed to his altar, and Elara gives him a kiss on the head. And then she heads into the university, retracing her steps carefully.

Elara rarely forgets a route. Its a skill she's been refining for years, learned out of necessity when she kept ending up forced to search houses without an opportunity to memorise their layout first. She's an absolutely *excellent* thief, and she refuses to consider that she might be otherwise.

The sun high above is uncomfortable, and Elara grimaces; she's grateful when she manages to slip into the dorms, heading up the stairs.

Mariette's in class. So are most people; when Elara reaches the door to her room she cocks her head, listening. Nothing. Hilda and Briallen are out as well. Good.

It takes Elara seven seconds to pick the lock to the dorm. She rolls her eyes as she lets herself in and closes the door behind her.

This is creepy. Elara *knows* its creepy. Elara *knows* that this is entirely weird. But she *warned* Mariette, *more than once,* and Mariette played along.

And so Elara settles in to search Mariette's side of the room.

For the most part its the same as last time she came in, except this time Elara indulges herself. She carefully pokes her way through the trophies, carelessly piled, before putting them back in place exactly as they were - except with the addition of tiny colourful plushes. A panda, a mole, a snake.

Mariette really isn't living up to her potential. Elara stares down at the trophies, the marks of *victory,* and wonders what they could be if Mariette put more into them.

Its a thought that makes Elara twitch, a little. Considering Mariette studying up, growing older, those Practitioner thought patterns crawling in and solidifying. Realising what she should - that a ghoul *is* just a tool. That Quiet's a little thing to be captured and used. That Gambit's a weapon to Bind.

There's power in those things. Elara knows. She *is* one of those tools.

Elara feels a little sick, thinking about that possibility. That inevitability.

Forcing herself, Elara moves on. She riffles through Mariette's clothes. She wishes she knew what colours they were. Colours seem to matter to Mariette. She'd even had an opportunity, maybe, to *get* those colours...

She shouldn't think about it.

Elara frowns a little, once she's done, the only difference left behind tiny tiny plushes snuck into pockets and under cloth. Bones and death iconography... it really *wasn't* Mariette's usual, was it? A bit of a style change. And those could matter a *lot,* with Practitioners.

There's a tiny legged snake looking at her. Elara waves at it. It waves back.

Going to one knee, Elara looks under the bed, searching, and... yes. As promised. A box.

Mariette had told her to be *careful* with it. She hadn't said not to look inside.

(What was wrong with her, telling a self-confessed thief she was *allowed* to take a look? What if she...)

Elara pulls it out, absently memorising exactly how far under it had been, and opens it up.

Pictures.

If it hadn't been already, Elara's heart would have stopped.

Amidst a few small keepsakes are a collection of photos.

Elara glances up, listening; there was noise, but nobody was coming.

With delicate precision, infinitely careful, Elara pulls them out one by one.

Elara knows some of these. There's Gambit in all his centipede-esque glory, a screen-capture of Quiet celebrating in her little phone-home. Elara shrinks, a little, at finding *herself;* Quiet had wanted a picture in New York, and she and Mariette had indulged her, standing side-by-side.

Then there were people Elara didn't know. A picture of a grumpy-looking bee; a man with a surprisingly soft smile; a woman dressed her best in professional attire.

Elara's fingers tremble a little as she reaches for the photos in pride of place. She stops herself; it takes several minutes for her to make the shaking go away.

There were several of these, but the themes were the same; a toddler, two men, and a woman. All of them with curly hair, in a shade Elara's mostly sure was brown; its a strange idea to think of Mariette without her dye. Both men had messy hair and stubble, similar facial structure; the woman's hair was more straight than curled. Most notable, though, was the *happiness* that was clear through the photos. The woman was smiling as she cradled the toddler, who was tugging at her hair, and the two men didn't seem to have a care in the world... or maybe they did, and they were simply certain they could handle it.

Elara puts the photos back one by one, fussing with their position until she was *sure* there was no difference.

*Mariette.*

Elara didn't understand. Why would she let her *see* this -

For nearly a minute Elara stares down at this collection of happy memories, and feels lurchingly unworthy of being given a place here.

Why? Just *why?* Why would she...

Elara feels sick again, something off in her stomach. She looks at the pink centipede she'd brought, considering what she'd wanted to do, and feels like she's intruding.

Fuck it, just fuck it. If this was unwelcome, then Mariette shouldn't have given her permission to touch her stuff anyway.

Elara delicately sets the pink centipede in the box, not disturbing any of the photos. Its large enough to curl in her hand, as opposed to the rest of the plushes (except the bird), which were lucky to be the length of a finger. She closes the box, and pushes it back to *exactly* where she found it.

Feeling shaky, Elara hides more little plush animals in Mariette's bed, on her desk. When Elara's done the place is infested.

She isn't done yet, though.

Elara turns, studying Hilda and Briallen's sections. Briallen's side glitters softly with Life; Hilda's doesn't - maybe a trace of Death? Elara isn't sure - but she doubts that its left unprotected, nonetheless.

Searching their stuff would probably be a violation of... a lot of things. *But.*

With an exhale, Elara heads for Briallen's section first. "Not here to take or damage anything," Elara murmurs, under the weight of stirring attention. "Gifts, actually." Arguably. But it wasn't like Elara wanted the pile of plushes *back.* She didn't buy them to *keep* them. Would probably ruin her karma if she had.

Carefully, Elara sets little plushes in place; a red panda, a flower-girl, an owl, snuggled on the girl's pillow. Two little snakes 'kissing' on her desk. A tiny bear under her bed, a little chicken and a little dog perched on her bags.

That would do.

Much, much more cautiously, Elara retreats from Briallen's section to Hilda's. First, the bed; a small army of birds facing down a little dragon, with a tiny mouse hidden under her pillow. Under her bed a snake curled around little plush eggs while a horse stares at them. Carefully thrown onto her bags, a bear and a wolf. On her desk a penguin engaged in war with a cow.

Stepping back, Elara nods with satisfaction at her work.

Surely this was worth a *what the fuck* if anything was.

Her bag of toys emptied of everything except the russet raven, Elara takes a picture and then takes her leave.

The sun's still out. It's going to be a *long* while until Mariette's free.

Elara sighs, and goes wandering.

She could return to Max. Probably should. But her - dog? - could take care of himself, for a bit. Elara didn't think she could bear his cheerfulness right now.

What the actual fuck...

It's been three months since Elara attended Mia Dunaway's Awakening and got a pocketful of sunshine as a thank-you gift. Seeing her again, a few things dully register.

Firstly, she got buff. The shy-of-six foot freshly-minted practitioner is wearing the same sports bra and trackpants as last time, only their elastic is pulled tight against a fine lattice of muscle, strung evenly across her tattooed shoulders and down sun-stained arms. A thin sheen of sweat catches the burning sunlight in a way that slightly stings Elara's eyes, made deeper by the sunshine spirits that the ghoul recalls Mia hosting. Her plentiful congregation of *Life* only worsens the effect.

It's a little like looking at Mariette, honestly.

Secondly, she's riffling through papers she found in the trash. A tote bag is over one shoulder, brimming with bottles, discarded food wrappings and worse. As she absentmindedly extracts one unit of garbage at a time to place it in its appropriate bin, she studies a crumpled up sheaf of paper stapled together, possibly a student's discarded essay. Elara watches in confusion as Mia mumbles to herself, checking the street's signage.

Finally, her hair. In Elara's greyscale world of searing white light and cold black shadows, Mia's pixie cut is a very faint shade of crayon yellow, as if the artist that inked the world let their toddler scribble on it, before the view reached the ghoul's eyes for publishing.

Mia turns, and Elara registers that she has abs. The sunshine girl blinks at her, recognition stirring as she opens her mouth to speak. Only, the words are shy of knowledgeable, and the Dabbler is left paused in a 'tip-of-my-tongue' expression.

Elara nearly flushes. She hadn't drunk the wolfsbane that morning - she hadn't thought she'd *need* to; she'd felt *fine,* and that she'd have some warning before seeing Mariette in which to get the damn stuff out and drink it.

The fact that there was actually someone else at this university who had any possibility of making Elara's heart beat had... slipped her mind. Or maybe she'd assumed that Mia would be busy like the rest. Or just that they wouldn't run into each other. Or maybe Elara had *somehow* forgotten that she *had* a crush.

Elara is suddenly, vividly aware of the fact that she's still carrying that little gift of sunshine in her pocket, wrapped up and hidden away but still a little bit warm.

"Hi," Elara manages, mouth dry. Maybe she *is* faintly red, after all. Elara's not sure. The sun is *out,* and even a corpse is warmed by that, much less a half-living monster.

It's got to be strange for Mia, seeing Elara without her ever-present hound. She's changed since their last meeting as well; not *much,* but her claws are gone, and she seems to be just that bit more *alive.* Her paranoid glancing around isn't any less.

Perhaps most notably, alongside the small bag slung over her shoulder, and the plain plastic bag with something squishy clutched in her hand, Elara's wearing a nice black denim jacket. She's got a hood up, shading her from the sun; everything else about Elara's wear is its usual worn and old grey-ish mess, covering every inch of her skin.

Recollection blooms in Mia's eyes. "Elara!" She says, like a kid discovering they have tickets to Disney Land. She snaps a finger beside her ear, as if to summon a thought, and splays a hand against her chest as she leans down slightly to speak with the ghoul. "I wanted to thank you for the shoes. I've been wearing them pretty much every day and they've gotten me out of a lot of tough scrapes." She sticks a foot out to rest on its heel, and rolls it around to show off the yellow shoes that Elara enchanted during her Awakening.

Mia rolls her eyes. *"Especially* recently, but I digress." The Dabbler's face goes on an adventure of emotions. Warm interest. "How have you been?" Innocent curiosity. "What're you doing in Calvarn?" Genuine concern. "Where's Max?" Beginner fashionista. *"Nice* jacket."

Proximity. To sunshine.

Oh, *fuck.*

Elara looks down at the shoes with a bit of faint despair, faintly wishing that Mia was just one of those people who Elara *wouldn't* end up noticing that her legs were... just so...

Why did Elara have to crush on people with too much light? Why was this a thing? Why was she forced to stand here while in front of her Mia glowed like bright golden fire?

She really couldn't stop being reminded of Mariette. She just couldn't. Elara did NOT need to have both of them in mind at once. Maybe she'd start feeling actually sick.

(Start?)

"Glad to hear they helped," Elara manages, a bit strangled. "Um. Could you repeat the other questions?"

Elara'd lost them somewhere between Mia's legs and all the bright gold gleaming on her.

Elara only hears Mia's jaw snap shut, too busy looking at the most modestly covered part of her body to see her face. She hears a light slap not long after. "I'm a doofus. Last time I saw you we were on the Path Behind The Lights- I haven't even seen you in the sun before- ugh, I'm just making excuses. I'm sorry. Let's get to some shade."

Elara feels Mia's free hand move toward her, clearly planning to lead her away. Only, it doesn't reach her, as the Dabbler thinks better of grabbing the creature of the night with her fists infused with daylight. She walks toward a nearby pair of benches, hooded by a building's brick balcony, with a small park and cluster of trees making the spot altogether pleasant, if dappled with offending rays of sun.

Mia takes a seat on the furthest bench, where the shade is deepest. "This way you won't have to look at Mi-a-nd the sun. Lemme try again. How have you been?"

Elara visibly relaxes as soon as they're out of the sunshine, though she keeps her hood up against the few dabbling rays that might dare try to actually touch her. She manages to get her gaze up to Mia's face, and honestly, its not any loss; its nice to see a bit of colour that isn't Life. Elara's wistful that Mariette's hair isn't like that - it would be nice to see it in turquoise.

"I've been having a bit of a break, lately," Elara answers, leaning into the back of the bench and drawing her legs up to her chest. "Managed to talk my boss into letting me out of the city for longer'n a few days." Elara's smile quirks crookedly. "Its been real nice overall, honestly. Not perfect, but what is?"

"I'm glad to hear it," Mia replies with a smile. "Max didn't come with you?" She subconsciously leans off the bench and onto the wall next to it, tiredly splaying her physique across the armrest. She registers a squint of pain on Elara's face and winces as well. "Sorry, I'm still too sunny, aren't I? Let me try a trick-"

The Dabbler closes her eyes and takes a deep, slow breath in, face placid with focus. The burning glow of Mia's sunshine spirits mute, leaving only her Life to spill through unencumbered. It becomes yellow, but a warmer shade than her hair. Sunflower, or ochre. No harder to look at than Mariette.

The smile returns as Mia's eyes open, sparkling. "Better?"

Elara's mouth is *very* dry. Is that legal? Is she supposed to be able to have existence feel like that?

"Bit less burny," Elara agrees, and that *is* nice. Its nice to be able to look at her with only the pain of how fucking pretty she is.

Of course, this small kindness *also* hurts, because Elara crushes *over* that niceness. Elara's heart doesn't beat, but... she feels warmer, all prickly and uncomfortable.

(How dare she smile like that?)

"And Max should be at the entrance, right now," Elara says, valiantly keeping her tone even. "He... well, when we talked *me* in here, Max was... not permitted to come along. No Calvarn for him, apparently. How's he going to manage without lessons?"

Mia scoffs. "Honestly, the lack of support for incredibly good boys like Max in our education system offends me." She maintains her restful, long, deep breaths, lounging like a tiger in a sunbeam. "That covers my questions, which leaves us with my compliment. Nice jacket." The tone is different this time. Less put-upon and for-television, more earnest.

Elara's gaze trips across Mia's form for a few moments before she manages to drag it back to Mia's face - and then the compliment registers, and Elara's gaze drops to her own arm. Elara pets the denim, a little helplessly. "It is, yeah." Elara's voice is too soft. "It's a gift."

Elara's not even aware of her tiny, fond smile, as the memory ripples up.

If Mia notices the prolonged pause, Elara wouldn't notice the way it worries the Dabbler's smile, as something like grief undercuts the idle joy of company and post-workout bliss. The smile's strength returns, however, as Mia sees Elara smile too, and infers more of what it entails. "Who from?" she asks idly.

Elara blinks, gaze darting up from the jacket to Mia. "Um. Mari - uh. Neon." Elara ducks her head, something like embarrassed; her stomach roils. "She invited me here."

Mia makes an appreciative noise, sitting up from her lounging to rest her elbows on her knees. "Neonpunk? Oh, she's great. Good morals, she and I were on the same page for some pretty dire stuff a while back. I've seen her around- I'd like to spar with her some time, but she'd probably mop the floor with me." It occurs to Elara, as Mia showers a girl who is mostly a stranger with praise, that there might have been a deeper meaning to The Dabbler's 'appreciative noise.'

"She's *awesome,*" Elara agrees, without batting an eyelash or hesitating or equivocating. She grins. "She probably would; she can definitely beat me when she's not holding back. But hey, you two fighting sure sounds like a lightshow I'd like to see." Elara settles a bit further into leaning into the bench, ignoring a faint, deepening headache. Elara cocks her head. "Actually, yeah, what was it you two did? Neon's mentioned... something, but I don't think she's told me what actually happened?"

Mia seems delighted at Elara's joy, but hisses when asked how she and Neon met, and raises her hands to do sarcasm marks. Her voice is slow, regretful. "Remember the user "Friendly Other," the guy who was party to the baby vivisection? Neon and I took offence to that, started cooperating on intervening on the guy. Maybe just beat him up until he agrees to change his ways, maybe do something... darker."

She shakes her head, and the glow of her wanes a little further, this time for reasons beside sudden practice technique. "We worked well together, she's a good communicator. Glory- of Silver and Glory?- ended up contacting us about him, said some truths and made some oaths toward handling FO themselves, keeping us out of it. Neon was good for that too, barreling through the bullshit." She nods sagely, approving. "Good friend to have."

Elara nods, cocking her head. "Huh. Yeah, I remember that wanker. Dick. I presume FO got handled, then? I doubt you two'd let that sorta shite go."

Mia sits up, all business. "I can confirm that he was turned into a hat."

Elara... blinks. She cocks her head. "He... what?"

Mia shrugs.

Elara turns that thought over in her head for a few moments, before shaking her head in confusion. And also to try and dismiss a bit of faint dizziness. "So, uh, how've you been? I've heard some concerning stuff about you, and, well, its kinda been a while."

Mia gives a long-suffering sigh. "I shouldn't complain. Calvarn suits me well, I'm healthier than I've ever been and more powerful too. Been picking up litter to try and get in the School Spirit's good graces, and networking for venturing into the Library. Plus, I'm working through a semi-curse-trial-mystery-thing, hence my trash delving." She lifts the essay from earlier out of her tote bag and waves it around. "Long story, but if it doesn't kill me it'll make me stronger."

Another sigh escapes Mia, and she seems irritated at herself for still feeling... whatever it is that's got her down. "But I made contact with my old life, and she tried to possess me, and my mental state's been grappling with that since. Lot to unpack."

Elara... cocks her head. "Yeeeeah, that sounds like *something,* jeeze. I doubt I can help -" What's a creature of death going to do for something so Light and Lively? "- but, well, my sympathies? Sounds fucking fucked up. Even if things're getting better."

Elara *doesn't* think about what's going on at home. Or how she had to contact grekhaus about how out of balance she's gotten. She doesn't.

"Trial thing, huh?" A flicker of a memory. "I think Ma - Neon's got something like that she's planning. Something about oddfolk and a book?" Elara shrugs. "Didn't quite get it, but she's been kinda excited."

Mia lights up, curiosity briefly causing her Life to flare. "Oh, Neon got a book too? Yeah, mine's a story from the same person. *The Blasphemous Blacksmith."*

So *bright.* Elara's momentarily enraptured, until her stomach roiling snaps her out of it. Elara shakes her head, trying to think - she didn't *eat* any of the goblins, right? No, it can't be food poisoning. She hasn't eaten *anything* magical lately.

"I don't really know what that means," Elara says, with a bit of a wry smile. "But, uh, cool? Maybe you two can chat about that sometime." She tilts her head. "Can I ask why you're digging in the trash? I've done that sorta thing a lot before. I might have some useful advice."

Mia squirms to reach into her pocket, an inelegant maneuver that does distracting things to her abs. Phone out, she taps away for a moment, then reads aloud as if proclaiming what you'll find out next time on a Saturday morning cartoon.

"*Penelope Fletcher and... the Blasphemous Blacksmith!* In which our Protagonist's community is beset! By the Echo of a blacksmith, who was tarred and feathered centuries ago for a crime he did not commit, given new power and corporeality after possessing the vestige of a Blasphemer against gods of Justice! To rid the area of this specter, Penny must exonerate the blacksmith — but how can one do that, when the crime is centuries old!?"

Mia turns to Elara as if this were a perfectly regular thing to have done mid-conversation. "So yeah, something like that is going to happen to me. Besides that, I was told to take note of street signs and not to rely too heavily on salt. That's about all I've had to work with, but I received a late afternoon visit from the blacksmith in question, only she- he's a she this time- is *an engineering student,* not a blacksmith, if the wrench and the oration of 'designs dismissed for defiance of indignity' was anything to go off of."

Mia spread her arms to encompass the area. "So I came by the engineering department here, and *what do you know..."* She waves the essay. "A complete paper, citations and all, tossed in the trash on Dignity Road. Not that I know if it's actually relevant, but I colour it a clue."

Elara's eyebrows go up. She's only faintly aware of Mia's movements - she's clinically, paranoiacally aware, of course, but its hard to luxuriate in physical appearances when you're... well.

"A'right then," Elara says. "Have fun, I guess?"

Its... fuck. Elara probably shouldn't stick around in the university while feeling like this. What if Mariette gets out of class and finds her? She *worries* so much. This'll probably pass if she just gives it a bit. Maybe. Surely.

Elara considers taking a drink of the poison she's got with her, then disregards it. Life doesn't feel like this. At this point Elara thinks she knows what that feels like.

Elara sighs, slumping a bit. "I should probably get going." Elara glances at the sun, still bright and blazing. "Shouldn't leave Max on his own too long, huh?"

Mia nods easily. "Of course. It was nice to see you, say hi to Neon for me. And give Max lots of pets."

Elara raises a hand in acknowledgement without promised agreement; "It was good to see you too," Elara agrees. She rolls herself to a graceful standing position -

And stumbles. Elara shakes herself off irritably as she realises what she did, the lack of *balance.* Fuck, she's never supposed to lose her balance. And she's been doing it so fucking often lately.

Mia's eyes widen. "Are you alright? You're not the type to stumble." She would know- Elara's blessing had made her shoes more surefooted. "Is it the sunlight? I could get the Skull Totem Max blessed if that would help."

"I don't -" Elara shakes her head, a bit viciously. She's faintly dizzy. Shaking her head doesn't help. "Don't think its sunlight." She doesn't like sunlight, and she *knows* the difference in discomfort. She knows what its like to burn. Elara huffs irritably. "I'll manage," she adds on, a bit resigned. "Don't worry about it. G'luck with your ghost."

Elara would offer help, while she's here; not that she can be much, but Elara can *See* Death, and who knows, maybe there's a use for that? But... well.

Mia frowns. "Okay, I'll trust you. Stay safe."

More trust? What's with the bright and shining people and *trust?*

Inclining her head in acknowledgement, Elara keeps on going, head ducked away from the sunlight. She feels *wrong,* all the way through, but she walks; she's kept on moving through worse, though that was easier, in a way. She'd been deader, it had been a duller kind of pain, more...

Elara didn't have the words as she threaded her way through Calvarn, warily avoiding both sunshine and Life.

As she starts to reach the boundaries of Calvarn, the discomfort starts to ease; as she exits the university she feels entirely fine again, and Elara exhales with relief. Max barks excitedly, sitting up at the sight of her; Elara laughs, and she can't hold back her smile at the sight of her dog.

"Miss me, did you boy?" Elara asks, kneeling in front of him and burying her fingers in his coat. She gives him fierce scritches as he paws and licks at her, and then she gives him a hug. "Yeah, I shouldn't be leaving you alone, should I?" Elara asks, a bit regretfully. "Sorry."

Max licks her face, then retreats, panting. His tongue lolls out in a doggy grin.

Elara smiles at him. "Who's a good boy, huh?"

Max barks.