Chapter Eighteen

Daphne sighs and gives first Abigail a look, then she turns that same look onto you. “Okay, it’s obvious that both of you are in over your heads,” she says.

That’s stupid, nothing can go over your head without you noticing, there are too many tentacles there.

Still, Abigail nods sharply and you decide that if your Summoner is willing to listen to this girl then you should too. Maybe, just maybe, the mortal has some wise words to spare that you can nibble on.

“Right, so Abi, tell me what you can about Dreamer.”

“Ah,” Abigail says before hesitating. “She’s... not human.” You nod, you’re obvious way better than that kind of mortal. “She’s um, a god.”

Daphne somehow exudes an aura of unimpressiveness. “A god?” she asks.

“I’m not,” you say to defend yourself. “Abigail is just confused. Gods are puny little things that are all ‘whan whan, I’m big and important,’ all the time and they taste yummy.” You shake your head. “Most of them are just really young and stupid. Not like me.”

Abigail swallows. “So, uh, not a god,” she confirms. “But she’s...” She wiggles her hands in the air as it to outline your real form in all of its tentacular splendour. “She can make rooms bigger, or smaller, and she can duplicate objects, and she can extract pure Aether from the world. She does things that nothing should be able to do.”

Daphne raises one eyebrow up.

Abigail sighes and leans to the side to reach into her bag. You watch as she searches within it for a moment, then pulls out the jar of life juice you gave her as a gift earlier. “Look,” she says as she passes it to Daphne.

Daphne takes it, then peers into it with widening eyes. “This is Aether?” she asks. “No, don’t answer that, I know it is. This is the clearest I’ve ever seen,” she murmurs as she turns the jar up to see through it. “You extracted this from Dreamer?”

“Nu-uh,” you deny. “I wanted some, so I pulled it out of the planet. But it’s okay, I gave the planet pats in exchange. It’s a good trade.”

Daphne eyed her some more, then carefully placed the jar onto her desk. “If it’s as real as it looks, and I can pull out my alchemy set to test it later, then this jar might be worth a thousand marks or so. Enough to cover your tuition for the next four years and then some,” Daphne said. She shook her head. “Okay, let’s pretend that I believe that your Dreamer here is some sort of... not a god but close enough. What now?”

“I, I don’t know,” Abigail said. “Do you think we could just... go to the Academy and pretend she’s a normal Familiar?”

“I am more than normal!” you declare.

“There’s no doubting that,” Daphne says to acknowledge your superiority to mere normal people and things. “And yes, you might be able to get away with passing Dreamer off as a strange Familiar. It’ll raise some suspicions but your background is banal enough that you probably won’t get into any trouble.”

“That’s not important,” you say before pointing to Abigail. “We’re here because Abigail is broken and you need to fix her.”

The girl leans back into her splush chair and lays a hand on its arm. Her nails click-click on the armrest for a moment as she thinks, then her eyes lock onto you and narrow a little. “Dreamer, do you care for Abigail?”

What a silly question. “She’s my summoner,” you say.

“Yes, she is,” Daphne agrees. Her ability to point out to obvious is incredible. You wonder if it’s a mortal skill. “But do you care for her beyond that or do you only care because she’s your summoner?”

You blink. “Of course I care. She gives hugs and pats.”

“Others can give hugs and pats,” Daphne says. “I happen to care a lot about Abigail too.” There a faint reddish tint to her cheeks as she says that. “She’s a very close friend, one of the best. I hope that we’re friends until both of us are old decrepit gossips, just like our moms are, and that we always stay close. But she’s not just my friend because she gives good hugs.”

For some reason, Abigail giggles as if that’s funny.

“I could get my hugs from others,” you say. “But they’re not Abigail.”

“They’re not,” Daphne agrees. “So you care for Abigail more than just because she’s your summoner and because she can give hugs.”

“And pats.”

“And pats.” She nods.

You frown as you think on this, then you look over to see Abigail staring at you, her eyes wide behind her thick glasses. There’s concern in her eyes, and a bit of a blush that makes all of her freckles stick out from her pale skin.

Why do you care about Abigail? She’s just a mortal even if she gives the best cuddles. There has to be a reason. So you decide that it’s because she’s Abigail. Abigail has an Abigailness that makes her worthy of your caring for her. Just like you have a tentacleness that makes you the most cuddleable.

“I like Abigail because she’s Abigail,” you tell Daphne.

She grins at you, the smile very unladylike. “I like her for the same reasons. It’s a good thing that no one can like Abigail too much. Unless they’re icky boys, right?”

You feel as if you and Daphne have just sealed a secret pact, one to protect Abigail’s hugs from anyone that isn’t one of you. Perfect.

“Yes!” you agree.

“Good, then in that case I’ll ask that you always try your best to make our little Abi as happy as she can be.”

“Daph,” Abigail whines. “That’s so embarrassing. Couldn’t you say it some other way?”

“Nope!”