Here's theme #99.
Guest Room. PG.
There was no such thing as a pajama-day in the Ul Copt household. Filia had learned very quickly from mornings when she’d stagger downstairs in her nightgown for some sweet, consciousness-affirming caffeine or late afternoons when she’d get out of the bath with no desire to change out of her fuzzy bathrobe into real clothes. Those would always be the moments when she’d find Xellos sitting at her kitchen table or turn around to see him standing right behind her. Being presentable as close to 100% of the time as possible had become the only appropriate way to respond to his random, unannounced and increasingly frequent appearances.
But at the very least, as a last, graspable straw of stability, she usually only had to watch out for one disappearing-reappearing guest. Yet, as she carried a basket of laundry down the stairs that day, wondering what she should prepare for lunch, she came across a second guest she hadn’t expected to contend with. Oh, Xellos was there too, sitting at a little fold-up table he’d evidently moved from the patio. He turned his head around to see her as she approached, revealing a sequence of cards in his hands. Across from him sat a craggily-faced stranger wearing a powder blue trench coat and a strangely accessorized pink scarf.
“Ah, Filia,” Xellos said, reorganizing his cards. “Glad to see you’ve finally joined us.”
“So is this the famous Filia?” the man asked with evident interest. He put his cards face down on the table and stood up, giving Filia a little half-bow. “Greetings and salutations, Miss Filia. Sir Xellos has told me so very much about his special friend.”
Filia stared numbly at the stranger and wonder with horror just what garbage he’d spouted about her. “Special friend” was certainly a red flag.
“Oh! Where are my manners?” the man chided himself, resting his fingers on his forehead and his thumb on a very defined cheekbone. “I haven’t introduced myself. I am Inspector Wizer Freion, a special investigator of the Ruvinagald Kingdom.” He held out a hand as if for her to shake it.
Filia’s hands were full of laundry at the moment and, even without that excuse, she wasn’t sure that she wanted to shake hands with any associate of Xellos. He looked like someone who’d hang out with Xellos too. He had the same shifty expression about his eyes. “Oh,” she said. “…And what are you doing in my kitchen?” she added as diplomatically as she possibly could.
Xellos jumped in here. “I invited Mister Wizer here for a regular…” he trailed off and turned to Wizer. “What are we calling it again?”
“Boys’ poker night,” Wizer answered taking his seat once more.
“It’s not nighttime,” Filia pointed out.
“Don’t play with semantics, Filia,” Xellos said disapprovingly. “It’s less dangerous than playing with fire, but not as much fun.”
Filia frowned at him. This was awfully nervy talk from someone who’d invited a person over to someone else’s house. “And shouldn’t you have more than just two people for a good poker game?”
“As a matter of fact…” Xellos answered as though this was a trifle embarrassing, “I did extend an invitation to Mister Milgazia as well.”
“M-m!” Filia began, nearly dropping her basket. “Milgazia? As in the leader of the Water Dragon King’s followers? As in a very well-respected and renowned golden dragon? That Milgazia?”
“Yes,” Xellos said matter-of-factly. “We’ve met on several occasions and I thought he’d be an ideal candidate to join our game.”
There was a feeling like ice trickling down the back of her neck as Filia contemplated just how pleasant those meetings could’ve possibly been. You had to admire Xellos’s audacity, though, in inviting a golden dragon on the level of the Supreme Elder to play a convivial card game with him. Or… perhaps not admire, now that she thought of it. More like “be aghast at.”
She had to ask. “What did he say when you invited him?”
He shuffled around his cards, more out of discomfort than out of a need to organize. “He asked me if this was a life or death proposition. I said that he was being a bit melodramatic—a trait I’ve noticed in golden dragons as a whole, if I might add—but I was curious, so I asked him what he would do if it was.”
“…And?” Filia pressed.
He looked up at her. “He said he was weighing his options.”
A dead silence fell over the room. Clearly in the face of having to play cards and drink beer with Xellos, the fair-minded and sensible golden dragon had decided that death was preferable.
Filia put down her load of laundry and straightened up, crossing her arms. “So… was there really no one else you could invite along as well?”
Xellos shrugged and let out a heavy sigh. “I suppose Mister Gourry might’ve joined us, but inviting him would mean inviting Miss Lina and you’re not at all equipped to feed the both of them.”
Wizer nodded appreciatively and dipped a pretzel stick into a small bowl of honey mustard (both of which had been taken out of Filia’s pantry without her approval). “Snacks are an essential ingredient of any proper poker night and if Lina Inverse were here, you can be sure her greed would allow for none of that.”
“And as for Mister Zelgadis…” Xellos trailed off. “Well, I’d already been rudely turned down by one person and it seemed futile to make it two.”
“It shocks me that those who call themselves your friends would treat you so rudely, Sir Xellos,” Wizer put in, shaking his head.
“It’s alright,” Xellos said, with his usual smile. “As long as there’s the two of us, the game can go forward.”
“Of course!” Wizer agreed. “What are best pals for?” He followed this cringe-inducing statement with a seemingly never-ending laugh.
Filia stared at the two of them. So this was… this was really it, wasn’t it? For Xellos, anyway. He traveled far and wide, knew a surprising variety of people, and, much though it pained her to admit it, he could even be charming and likeable when he concentrated and bothered to give a damn about it. Yet… here they were, not for some grand mission or magical conspiracy, but just a casual game of cards and chitchat, and all he could scrounge up was some weirdo from Ruvinagald. …And her, she supposed. This was all taking place in her house. He had his best pal and his… “special friend.” For all that Xellos could boast about, this was what it came down to in the end for people who were at least somewhat willing to subject themselves to him even when they didn’t have to.
It was a little… stirring now that she thought about it. And pathetic, of course. Really, really pathetic.
Filia blinked as a thought struck her. Some weirdo from Ruvinagald?
She turned to Wizer. “Ummm… Mister Wizer, is it? You did say you were from Ruvinagald, didn’t you?”
“Why, yes, I did,” Wizer answered.
“…Isn’t that a long way to come from just for a card game?” she asked, casting a look of suspicion at Xellos. Would he actually have teleported a human to her house?
“It is a bit of a ways,” Wizer confirmed with a nod. “I’ll have a long carriage ride ahead of me tomorrow to get home.”
“Well, that’s—” Filia broke off, mid-polite response. “Tomorrow?!”
“Yes, and I must thank you,” Wizer went on warmly. “Sir Xellos has told me that you’ve been good enough to provide me a place to stay for the evening.”
Filia turned her head to Xellos, her neck making an angry, cracking sound as it swiveled. “He did, did he?”
“You have a guest room,” Xellos pointed out calmly. “You might as well make good use of it. Otherwise, why have it at all?”
“That’s not the point!” Filia countered, slamming her hands down on the card table and setting poker chips rattling. “Just because I let you stay here all the time doesn’t mean this is your house! You can’t just invite people willy-nilly without asking me first! You don’t live here!”
Xellos shrugged. “But I practically live here,” he answered. He nodded to the wall next to the sink. “I even have my own mug.”
Filia mentally cursed as she took in the obnoxiously tidy “Xellos” handwritten on a mug next to a similar mug with the name “Filia” on it. She’d known hosting that paint-your-own-pottery seminar would come back to bite her one day. “That… that doesn’t mean anything at all. A mug with your name on it is hardly proof of residence! It’s just… luggage!”
A wicked brainwave coursed through Filia’s consciousness before Xellos could properly poke holes in her “luggage” comments or before Wizer could delve into the legal question of what constitutes proof of residence. “That’s right,” she said, a gleam in her eye as she turned to look at Xellos. “It’s luggage,” she repeated. “It’s luggage because you’re a guest.”
“I think I’m more of a—” Xellos began before being cut off.
“And since you are a guest,” Filia went on, “that means that if you’re going to stay here tonight, you’re going to stay in the guest room. After all,” she added, ready to throw his words back in his face, “I have a guest room. I might as well make good use of it. Otherwise, why have it at all?
Xellos shot her a look that was clearly meant to silently communicate that she was embarrassing him and herself in front of their visitor from Ruvinagald. “But you and I have a… a rather different sleeping arrangement already in place,” he reminded her.
“Not tonight we don’t,” she informed him. “I’m sure if we did you’d have bothered to check with me before making plans that involve my house.”
“But surely, Filia—”
“Oh, and fair warning to you,” she added, picking up her laundry basket and looking to Wizer, who’d been watching the conversation with squinty disbelief, “it’s not a big bed and Xellos is a very aggressive cuddler.”
She turned on her heel and left the room with a little extra flounce in her step. “So enjoy that,” she called over her shoulder.
Guest Room. PG.
There was no such thing as a pajama-day in the Ul Copt household. Filia had learned very quickly from mornings when she’d stagger downstairs in her nightgown for some sweet, consciousness-affirming caffeine or late afternoons when she’d get out of the bath with no desire to change out of her fuzzy bathrobe into real clothes. Those would always be the moments when she’d find Xellos sitting at her kitchen table or turn around to see him standing right behind her. Being presentable as close to 100% of the time as possible had become the only appropriate way to respond to his random, unannounced and increasingly frequent appearances.
But at the very least, as a last, graspable straw of stability, she usually only had to watch out for one disappearing-reappearing guest. Yet, as she carried a basket of laundry down the stairs that day, wondering what she should prepare for lunch, she came across a second guest she hadn’t expected to contend with. Oh, Xellos was there too, sitting at a little fold-up table he’d evidently moved from the patio. He turned his head around to see her as she approached, revealing a sequence of cards in his hands. Across from him sat a craggily-faced stranger wearing a powder blue trench coat and a strangely accessorized pink scarf.
“Ah, Filia,” Xellos said, reorganizing his cards. “Glad to see you’ve finally joined us.”
“So is this the famous Filia?” the man asked with evident interest. He put his cards face down on the table and stood up, giving Filia a little half-bow. “Greetings and salutations, Miss Filia. Sir Xellos has told me so very much about his special friend.”
Filia stared numbly at the stranger and wonder with horror just what garbage he’d spouted about her. “Special friend” was certainly a red flag.
“Oh! Where are my manners?” the man chided himself, resting his fingers on his forehead and his thumb on a very defined cheekbone. “I haven’t introduced myself. I am Inspector Wizer Freion, a special investigator of the Ruvinagald Kingdom.” He held out a hand as if for her to shake it.
Filia’s hands were full of laundry at the moment and, even without that excuse, she wasn’t sure that she wanted to shake hands with any associate of Xellos. He looked like someone who’d hang out with Xellos too. He had the same shifty expression about his eyes. “Oh,” she said. “…And what are you doing in my kitchen?” she added as diplomatically as she possibly could.
Xellos jumped in here. “I invited Mister Wizer here for a regular…” he trailed off and turned to Wizer. “What are we calling it again?”
“Boys’ poker night,” Wizer answered taking his seat once more.
“It’s not nighttime,” Filia pointed out.
“Don’t play with semantics, Filia,” Xellos said disapprovingly. “It’s less dangerous than playing with fire, but not as much fun.”
Filia frowned at him. This was awfully nervy talk from someone who’d invited a person over to someone else’s house. “And shouldn’t you have more than just two people for a good poker game?”
“As a matter of fact…” Xellos answered as though this was a trifle embarrassing, “I did extend an invitation to Mister Milgazia as well.”
“M-m!” Filia began, nearly dropping her basket. “Milgazia? As in the leader of the Water Dragon King’s followers? As in a very well-respected and renowned golden dragon? That Milgazia?”
“Yes,” Xellos said matter-of-factly. “We’ve met on several occasions and I thought he’d be an ideal candidate to join our game.”
There was a feeling like ice trickling down the back of her neck as Filia contemplated just how pleasant those meetings could’ve possibly been. You had to admire Xellos’s audacity, though, in inviting a golden dragon on the level of the Supreme Elder to play a convivial card game with him. Or… perhaps not admire, now that she thought of it. More like “be aghast at.”
She had to ask. “What did he say when you invited him?”
He shuffled around his cards, more out of discomfort than out of a need to organize. “He asked me if this was a life or death proposition. I said that he was being a bit melodramatic—a trait I’ve noticed in golden dragons as a whole, if I might add—but I was curious, so I asked him what he would do if it was.”
“…And?” Filia pressed.
He looked up at her. “He said he was weighing his options.”
A dead silence fell over the room. Clearly in the face of having to play cards and drink beer with Xellos, the fair-minded and sensible golden dragon had decided that death was preferable.
Filia put down her load of laundry and straightened up, crossing her arms. “So… was there really no one else you could invite along as well?”
Xellos shrugged and let out a heavy sigh. “I suppose Mister Gourry might’ve joined us, but inviting him would mean inviting Miss Lina and you’re not at all equipped to feed the both of them.”
Wizer nodded appreciatively and dipped a pretzel stick into a small bowl of honey mustard (both of which had been taken out of Filia’s pantry without her approval). “Snacks are an essential ingredient of any proper poker night and if Lina Inverse were here, you can be sure her greed would allow for none of that.”
“And as for Mister Zelgadis…” Xellos trailed off. “Well, I’d already been rudely turned down by one person and it seemed futile to make it two.”
“It shocks me that those who call themselves your friends would treat you so rudely, Sir Xellos,” Wizer put in, shaking his head.
“It’s alright,” Xellos said, with his usual smile. “As long as there’s the two of us, the game can go forward.”
“Of course!” Wizer agreed. “What are best pals for?” He followed this cringe-inducing statement with a seemingly never-ending laugh.
Filia stared at the two of them. So this was… this was really it, wasn’t it? For Xellos, anyway. He traveled far and wide, knew a surprising variety of people, and, much though it pained her to admit it, he could even be charming and likeable when he concentrated and bothered to give a damn about it. Yet… here they were, not for some grand mission or magical conspiracy, but just a casual game of cards and chitchat, and all he could scrounge up was some weirdo from Ruvinagald. …And her, she supposed. This was all taking place in her house. He had his best pal and his… “special friend.” For all that Xellos could boast about, this was what it came down to in the end for people who were at least somewhat willing to subject themselves to him even when they didn’t have to.
It was a little… stirring now that she thought about it. And pathetic, of course. Really, really pathetic.
Filia blinked as a thought struck her. Some weirdo from Ruvinagald?
She turned to Wizer. “Ummm… Mister Wizer, is it? You did say you were from Ruvinagald, didn’t you?”
“Why, yes, I did,” Wizer answered.
“…Isn’t that a long way to come from just for a card game?” she asked, casting a look of suspicion at Xellos. Would he actually have teleported a human to her house?
“It is a bit of a ways,” Wizer confirmed with a nod. “I’ll have a long carriage ride ahead of me tomorrow to get home.”
“Well, that’s—” Filia broke off, mid-polite response. “Tomorrow?!”
“Yes, and I must thank you,” Wizer went on warmly. “Sir Xellos has told me that you’ve been good enough to provide me a place to stay for the evening.”
Filia turned her head to Xellos, her neck making an angry, cracking sound as it swiveled. “He did, did he?”
“You have a guest room,” Xellos pointed out calmly. “You might as well make good use of it. Otherwise, why have it at all?”
“That’s not the point!” Filia countered, slamming her hands down on the card table and setting poker chips rattling. “Just because I let you stay here all the time doesn’t mean this is your house! You can’t just invite people willy-nilly without asking me first! You don’t live here!”
Xellos shrugged. “But I practically live here,” he answered. He nodded to the wall next to the sink. “I even have my own mug.”
Filia mentally cursed as she took in the obnoxiously tidy “Xellos” handwritten on a mug next to a similar mug with the name “Filia” on it. She’d known hosting that paint-your-own-pottery seminar would come back to bite her one day. “That… that doesn’t mean anything at all. A mug with your name on it is hardly proof of residence! It’s just… luggage!”
A wicked brainwave coursed through Filia’s consciousness before Xellos could properly poke holes in her “luggage” comments or before Wizer could delve into the legal question of what constitutes proof of residence. “That’s right,” she said, a gleam in her eye as she turned to look at Xellos. “It’s luggage,” she repeated. “It’s luggage because you’re a guest.”
“I think I’m more of a—” Xellos began before being cut off.
“And since you are a guest,” Filia went on, “that means that if you’re going to stay here tonight, you’re going to stay in the guest room. After all,” she added, ready to throw his words back in his face, “I have a guest room. I might as well make good use of it. Otherwise, why have it at all?
Xellos shot her a look that was clearly meant to silently communicate that she was embarrassing him and herself in front of their visitor from Ruvinagald. “But you and I have a… a rather different sleeping arrangement already in place,” he reminded her.
“Not tonight we don’t,” she informed him. “I’m sure if we did you’d have bothered to check with me before making plans that involve my house.”
“But surely, Filia—”
“Oh, and fair warning to you,” she added, picking up her laundry basket and looking to Wizer, who’d been watching the conversation with squinty disbelief, “it’s not a big bed and Xellos is a very aggressive cuddler.”
She turned on her heel and left the room with a little extra flounce in her step. “So enjoy that,” she called over her shoulder.