Chapter Twenty

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You watch as Daphne sets down her fork and knife, picks up a piece of cloth from the table, and dabs at her lips.

It’s terribly disappointing, but ever since you finished eating all of your meat you’ve been staring at Daphne’s plate and hoping that she wouldn’t be able to finish it all. She is, after all, really thin and doesn’t look like she eats that much.

“So,” she says and it snaps you out of your daydreams of eating more meat. “You were about to tell us about your home?” Daphne asks.

You nod along. “Yes. I can pat pat the information into your head, that way there’s less talking and more time for eating,” you say. Hopefully she will reward this ingenuity with more food.

“Um,” Abigail says, her fork pausing over her plate. “I don’t think that would be a good idea.” She’s not even halfway through her meal yet, eating it with little nibbles and humming happily over every bite. You don’t think she notices that she’s doing that, but the smile on Daphne’s face tells you that she did.

You would never steal food from your Summoner, of course. She needs it to grow bigger and stronger and even prettier than she already is.

“Has she... done that before?” Daphne asks.

Abigail nods. “Yes, she has. It was... not quite painful, but still a lot to take in.”

“And Abigail died too,” you say and immediately regret it when Abigail, Daphne and Archie all stare at you. “I made her better.”

“In that case, maybe you can tell me with words instead?” Daphne says.

You harrumph. These mortals are always so worried about their mortality that they’re forgetting to live a little. It’s very silly. “Fine. My home is, uh.” you pause. It’s only now that you realize that describing your home isn’t that easy. “You know how this place is made of things?” you ask as you gesture at the stuff around the dining room. “My home has none of that. It’s a lot of nothing.”

“Like... space?” Daphne says. “Astrologists says that there’s a great void between the planets and stars.”

“Kinda, but at least you have stars and planets and other things to eat,” you say. “Where I’m from there’s none of that, but a lot of nothing that goes on forever.”

“That sounds...” Abigail shudders, then pulls you into a hug against her side, hand rubbing up and down your back. “That sounds awful.”

“It’s not that bad,” you say as you burrow into her side. Not literally, more like squishing your face into Abigail’s warmth. “There are others there. Like... conceptual things. They make it less lonely. It only takes a few eons to bump into something in the void.”

“Right,” Daphne says. She shares a glance with Abigail, then looks towards the door just as Edmund comes in.

“Will the ladies be taking dessert before bed?” he asks.

“Not me,” Abigail says as she gestures to her plate. “This is too rich for me already.”

“I’ll skip too,” Daphne says, “but bring something for Dreamer. The way she was eyeing my plate...”

Curses! You were spotted.

“Very well. The guest bedroom next to the Lady’s is ready, as is the one next to it.” Edmund bows. “When you are ready tell me so and I’ll find nightclothes for our guests.” He steps out of the room and you watch him go for a bit before turning back to the others.

“What’s dessert?”

“It’s something to eat when you’re done with your main meal,” Abigail explains before taking a bite and chewing. “Usually it’s something sweet, or a pastry.”

Food for when you’re done eating your food? These mortals are geniuses!

You eagerly await your dessert while Daphne and Abigail start talking about the Academy again. Abigail is very cute when she gets all excited about classes and teachers and lessons. You’ve eaten none of those, so you’re not sure how you feel about it.

Then Edmund arrives with a plate that has a slice of something that smells yummy and a glass of milk. You take one sniff, then chomp down on the triangular thing. It’s moist and soft and melty and great.

Edmund is forgiven for flirting with Abigail. If her provides more of this he can flirt all day.

When you’re done eating your plate you look up to Abigail and smile. “Done!”

“You’re all messy,” she whines before taking her napkin and rubbing your cheeks. “We can’t have you going to bed with a dirty face.”

“Is it time for bed now?” you ask. You can’t quite deny the bubble of excitement in your tummy at that. Bedtime is the best time.

“Yes,” Daphne says with a laugh. “It’s bedtime.”

You nod and push away from the table then stand up. Tentacles, the cuddliest sort, spear out from under your dress and wrap around Abigail and then Daphne. She screams a little, so you place one over her mouth. “No screaming,” You tell her. “It’s bedtime.”

Moving out of the room with both girls cocooned behind you, you start searching for the bedrooms when you find Edmund standing in the corridor. “May I enquire as to what is going on?” he asks.

“Yes, where’s the beds?”

“Upstairs and to the right,” he replies easily. “Will you be putting Miss Daphne and Miss Abigail down?”

“Yes,” you tell him. “In bed. It’s bedtime.”

He nods slowly. “Very well then, I shall lead you to Miss Daphne’s chambers.”

Daphne makes weird grumbly noises as you follow Edmund upstairs and into a big room. In the centre of it is a huge bed with four posts on each corner and a mattress buried under a layer of blankets.

You nod approvingly. This is a good sleeping place.

“Sleeping clothes are here,” Edmund says as he lays out three gowns onto the edge of the bed. Two are long and one is shorter. “I took the opportunity to find one of Miss Daphne’s older sleeping gowns for the young miss.”

“Thank you,” you tell him because being polite is nice. Then you start stripping the girls with your tentacles and, like the okay sort of person he is, Edmund turns around and stares at the wall.

“D-Dreamer!” Daphne screams as you take off the last of her clothes. “What are yo--” she’s cut off as you slip her sleeping gown on.

Abigail seems a lot less combative about the whole thing.

Soon, everyone is dressed and, with a tentacle or ten, you pull up the blankets and stuff a protesting Daphne and a sighing Abigail onto the bed and then climb in. You’re sure to drape them in as many tentacles as you can so that they’re nice and warm.

“G’night,” you say before tucking you face in the crook of Abigail’s neck.

Abigail sighs. “I’m so sorry Daphne,” she says. One hand reached over and starts running over the back of your head.

Daphne mutters something then squirms a little in your tenticular grasp so that she’s closer to Abigail’s side. “Good night, I suppose,” she says.