Fate weaver’s convergence

“I don’t wanna!”

 

Kiyomi was refusing to come out, her newly polished horns contrasting with her red face as Mizzel tried to push her out of the room.

 

“Come on, you can’t hide in here forever! You wanted to see your friends work, didn't you?”

 

She whined, Beryl rolling her eyes as she watched her friend try to anchor herself halfway through the door. She was wearing one of Mizzel’s skirts and a white blouse that she’d rolled up to her sleeves. She said it made her look ‘too much like a woman’ and proceeded to anchor herself the moment she saw Beryl. 

 

“Come on, Kiyomi, you used to run around in a tunic and this is where you choose to be embarrassed?”

 

Kiyomi yelled, Mizzel suppressing a fit of laughter at her stressed words.

 

“That was before I had tits! And the fuckin gremlin behind me started stirring my brains around and makin’ me self-conscious!”

 

Beryl grabbed one of Kiyomi’s horns, pulling gently.

 

“Come on, you wanted something to do? Helping Vaughn is the best thing you can do.”

 

“Noooo.”

 

She whined again, coming into full view as she was pulled.

 

“Thanks for the advice.”

 

Beryl remarked to Mizzel.

 

“Hah– ah, ko, anytime.”

 

The second demon was trying to wipe her face with her arm to calm herself. 

 

“All I did was joke with her and she started staring at herself in the mirror, the moment she laid eyes on you she just wouldn’t come out.”

 

“I don’t wannaaa.”

 

The behavior was very not like Kiyomi’s usual self, and it would’ve been enough to make Beryl concerned if she already wasn’t . She refused to speak a word of what was bothering her, and being as she wouldn’t talk, the only thing Beryl could do was drag her out.

 

“Kiyomi, the last habit we need you to form is becoming a hermit. Come on.”

 

“Okay.”

 

Vaughn had gotten to work, and being as Beryl could not do much for him with the words of Jozef barring her from the study. Kiyomi was the only other person allowed to accompany him, and Beryl thought it would do her some good, forcing her to spend some time with Vaughn. Getting a better look at her as they moved, Kiyomi was a mark more ‘dressed’ than her usual attire. A white button up shirt, unbuttoned near its top as it revealed the center of her collar and tucked into the skirt just above her belly button. The shirt was just barely fitting for her, as it didn’t aid in concealing her chest like the usual effort she made to hide it. The skirt was russet red in color, ending just above the ankle of her boots, with an apron and her sword belt tied around her waist. 

 

“Hey, Vaughn, we’re coming in.”

 

Beryl knocked at the door, her tail nearly plastered to the wall so Kiyomi could scoot by. The sound of shuffled paper and books being closed marked the clear ability to enter the room. 

 

“Come in.”

 

As they opened the door, Vaughn leaned against the desk, looking to the door. Fresh air flowed into the room through the opened window, and he nearly seemed taken aback by Kiyomi’s outfit.

 

“I thought she said she had spare pants?”

 

Kiyomi nodded sheepishly.

 

“Those were my spare pants.”

 

Vaughn looked to Beryl.

 

“What about her top?”

 

They looked to each other, before Kiyomi continued.

 

“Mizzel took the bodysuit to stitch it up, she said it didn’t match anyway.”

 

Vaughn looked between them again.

 

“Is she good? That’s damned near the shyest I’ve ever seen her. Is this cause of the other—“

 

Beryl’s face went white as she held her arm’s out in the shape of an X just behind Kiyomi.

 

“Cause of the other what?”

 

Kiyomi perked up if only just enough to seem quiet, slowly entering the room to lean against one of the book shelves.

 

“Oh, cause of Mizzel?”

 

Kiyomi rolled her eyes, her shoulders drooping as she tended to relax.

 

“Yeah.”

 

She seemed flushed for a moment sneering at no one before giving an audible sigh.

 

“So, partners In crime, are we? What's the grand engineer drawing up?”

 

Beryl closed the door with a light click, leaving the two to their work. Kiyomi cocked her head back, looking to the door with confusion.

 

“She’s not allowed to see the work. Jozef’s got a stick up his rear and is paranoid about her rambling and saying something to Sophia.”

 

“One of her moms. She was an officer in the Imperial army, and Jozef is heavily inclined to distrust her.”

 

“Fuckin, after four? Five years?”

 

Vaughn nodded.

 

“Yep.”

 

KiyomI rolled her eyes, walking over to Vaughn’s desk as he uncovered the drawings and reopened his books. Numbers, equations, rough estimates of the years and months, and atop it all was Greggor’s old drawings with numerous marks of red ink pointing out errors. Below them were his own, recreating the designs with proper measurement, tolerances, and stated performance goals.

 

“These plans are that far out?”

 

She asked, looking over the estimated phases of the projects. Sixteen months, one standard year of this world, with its sun and two moons. Rough estimates for the seasons, and room for off season as well as travel time between Brenton and Krakow roughly blocked beneath them. 

 

“It's a race against time, but if the cities started slave driving, or worse, purchasing slaves from the empire? It would be too open.”

 

Kiyomi looked to Vaughn, then back to the paper.

 

“So that’s a thing here…”

 

“It was a joke, but yeah, Imperial territory still using them alongside auxilia for construction.”

 

Vaughn brushed a hand through his hair, his eyes widened as he looked back over his work.

 

“Fuck, I’m gonna be here all week. Pa, what the hell is happening to you?”

 

His words were rife with stress as he let them out.

 

“Your pa just fudged the numbers, didn’t he?”

 

Vaughn shook his head as Kiyomi leaned over him, looking at the same numbers, squinting as she saw some of the figures for explosive mass.

 

“He did more than fudge them, Kiyomi.”

 

He was quiet for a moment, picking up a cup of water.

 

“Pa’s… I think his age is getting him. He’s in his sixties now, and by all means, he should have plenty of time left, but—“

 

He sipped, placing the cup back down and rifling through one of his notebooks.

 

“It’s like he keeps losing his place, repeating numbers, missing time blocks. Fuckin—”

 

He tossed down the pencil he had in his opposite hand.

 

“He’s fuckin losing it, I didn’t want to believe it— I wanted to tell myself he was just having a bad time, that he was exhausted. But this was over months ago, Kiyomi, and if this goes unchecked, everything Krakow and Brenton are collaborating on will be up in smoke. Months, maybe years, behind schedule.”

 

He dropped his head into his hands, shuddering for a moment before evening his breath. It only took another moment for Kiyomi to place a hand on his shoulder, coaxing him to sit back up and drop his hands with his momentary break from work. When Vaughn looked up at her, she seemed conflicted, like she didn't know what exactly to do for him at that moment before picking up the pencil he dropped.

 

“You’re one hell of an engineer, Vaughn. One that Greggor brought up. How many times have I sat over your shoulder, watching you work alongside him before he started letting you take larger projects for the city?”

 

She sat on the edge of the desk, taking the pencil in both hands. She scratched at the broken tip, lead and shavings of wood flaking off and dropping to the floor.

 

“Greggor may be losing his edge…”

 

She muttered, softly, and in a slightly dejected tone.

 

“But that's why he taught you, and that's exactly why Jozef trusts you. This is the cycle of the work, is it not? Greggor didn't send this out with a harpy for a reason, didn't he?”

 

She handed Vaughn the pencil back, sharp and ready for use. She crossed her arms, looking at the plans, then back to him.

 

“He wants you here for this purpose, I'd bet. Someone to work in his place.”

 

Kiyomi was hesitant with the words. 

 

“Ko, ya look like hell.”

 

She grimaced, then nodded to the door. 

 

“Go take a nap, I'll see about some coffee and some lunch for ya.”

 

I can’t hide nothin’ with you, can I? 

 

He smirked, standing with her.

 

“Thanks.”

—————————————————————————————

Beryl slithered back downstairs, Vaughn passing by her.

 

“I thought you were working?”

 

She asked, surprised to see him up from the desk so early. He waved over his shoulder.

 

“Kiyomi said to take a nap, so I'm taking a nap. Or, at the least taking a second to collect my thoughts before I dive back into the shit show of math.”

 

Vaughn kept walking, sweeping his hair back as he disappeared out of sight and the click of a door closing followed after.

 

More of this with these two, maybe I’m taking things in stride too easily? Or is it just because I’ll be on my own soon? 

 

Beryl continued down the stairs, slithering past Mizzel, hard at work in the kitchen. 

 

Where’d Kiyomi run off to? I doubt she’d join Vaughn to nap in the room, especially after she slept for a good while under Mizzel’s heel. 

 

Beryl opened the door, expecting her to be on the porch, only for to see Jagoda sweeping.

 

“Miss Jagoda, did Kiyomi happen to go out?”

 

The old woman looked up squinting for a moment.

 

“She wasn't in the kitchen? She asked to help herself to it.”

 

Beryl tilted her head.

 

“I thought that was Mizzel. That's odd.”

 

When did she take up cooking? She’s usually one to wait for it to be brought to her, isn’t she? Hell, Vaughn does most of the cooking when we’re hunting. 

 

Beryl thought for a long and hard moment as she slithered back, peeking around the corner of the kitchen, to realize Jagoda’s word’s were the truth. Kiyomi was there, slicing at a chicken that had been hung to bleed. She was slicing horizontal of the grain, flour and eggs off to the side. Stale bread sat on the counter, crumbling from lack of use, and by all rights should have been kept aside for the night’s stew.

 

Oh gods, she’s not gonna make him sick, is she?

 

Beryl moved, hoping to spare Vaughn of the possible food poisoning she foresaw.

 

“Shhh, wait, let her cook.”

 

Mizzel smiled, holding Beryl to the side as Kiyomi continued her prep. 

 

“She’s been prepping oil, see?”

 

She pointed to the oven, a small pot boiling atop it. 

 

“She’s gonna fry it, I think. I’m curious, never seen someone fry chicken.”

 

Kiyomi continued, cutting the meat, cracking the eggs, whisking them, and adding seasoning to the flour as she set it aside. The bread, she crumbled in her hands,crumbs scattering over the counters surface as she did. Taking the chicken, she placed it in the seasoned flour, using both hands to coat it.

 

“Oooh no, now we should she’s about to— Stop!”

 

“Eeep!”

 

Kiyomi nearly jumped from her skin, dropping the chicken back into the flour with a poof of dust.

 

“Ah, shit, sorry.”

 

The two demons swept at the air, holding their breath as Beryl approached. The cloud settled, the three able to breathe freely in just a few moments.

 

“It’s all good, girl. You just nearly ruined your flow. I was rooting for you too.”

 

Mizzel directed her as Beryl watched.

 

“You’re cooking for Vaughn? I don’t think I’ve ever seen you so much as lift a pot, even at camp.”

 

She asked as Mizzel corralled the flour back into a more manageable bowl shape. Kiyomi blushed, looking to the side.

 

“He looked ragged, y‘know? Felt he could do with lunch, ya’ll didn’t eat, did you?”

 

Beryl shook her head, settling her elbows on the counter.

 

“No, he was too engrossed in his notebook on the walk back.”

 

Kiyomi shrugged.

 

“I’ve never cooked for any of you, I figured this is the way I could help for now. You seemed busy, and I didn’t want to bother Mizzel or Jagoda, figured it was something I could do.”

 

“About that, what exactly were you making?”

 

Mizzel asked, producing a pair of rags, wiper her hands, and handing another to Kiyomi. 

 

“Fried chicken, I remember the recipe from— from before.”

 

So that’s what you knew what you were doing, whew.

 

Beryl sighed in relief to herself.

 

“Well, you nearly made your efforts a tinge more difficult, hun. You were about to use both hands, right?”

 

Kiyomi nodded, sighing as she cleaned her own hands.

 

“I’ve fried food before, just never chicken. You’re supposed to use each hand, one wet, one dry, like this.”

 

Mizzel patted the chicken Kiyomi took in hand initially, using her right hand to drag it through the flour on each side, then passing it to her left to dredge it in the egg wash. Swapping once more, she placed it in the crumbs.

 

“Is the oil ready?”

 

“Mhm.”

 

Kiyomi nodded, placing the tip of one of her thumbs into the liquid.

 

“Girl, are you good?”

 

Beryl and Mizzel both looked at her oddly.

 

“Mana break, protects me somewhat,”

 

Kiyomi wiped the thumb against her rag before nodding at the bowl. 

 

“I’ll be fine, if I shoved my hand and kept it in there? Maybe not so much.”

 

She said with a shrug, rejoining Mizzel at the line.

 

“I’m shocked to say I’m a little proud of you here, Kiyomi.”

 

Beryl smiled, watching the two work. 

 

“You definitely seem happy to be doing this, at least.”

 

Kiyomi smiled softly.

 

“It’s a trip down memory lane, I hope he likes them. Though I’ll have to boil some coffee with them, chicken strips used to make me drowsy, but it’s a more homely taste.”

 

Beryl looked to the sack of grounds hanging from the rafters.

 

“Leave it to me, miss housewife, I’ll get on it.”

 

Beryl said with a failed salute, slithering past.

 

“I am not a housewife, mom held that over my head before and I’m too damn young to start now.”

 

Beryl chuckled as slithering past.

 

“Snark— So later?”

 

Kiyomi rolled her eyes, taking a piece of freshly coated piece of chicken from Mizzel.

 

“By the way, Mizzel—“

 

Beryl grabbed an apron from a small rack, swinging it around Kiyomi’s hips and tying a quick knot.

 

“This one’s messy, don’t let her stain your clothes.”

 

Beryl joked, her snake tongue peeking through her teeth.

 

“I know where you sleep, Beryl.”

 

Kiyomi threatened jokingly.

 

“I knooow.”