Everyday Erryton

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"What happened to your PMD adventure?"

"It was really cool having magical powers for the first time, but it only lasted a day, and everything just went back to normal."

"As soon as she found out she could shoot lightning, she attacked me."

"I wanted to have a battle! I can't do that normally! And you still beat me to a pulp, I don't know why you're complaining..."

Special thanks to The Spriter’s Resource and the PMD Sprite Repository for making this gag possible.

Special thanks to The Spriter's Resource and the PMD Sprite Repository for making this gag possible.

It was their first wedding anniversary recently ... seems like they're busy.

"Hmn... I wouldn't expect them to blow up, hadn't you said it... But I'll take some, what with your kind offer an' all. They look good."

Pansy pauses.

"Though I'd better caution to ask if there's other side effects to eating this 'magic'!"

First Memories

Epilogue

The competition was over, and just about everyone had gone home. Queenie had left to preserve her dignity, Taylor had to go to work, Tech had absconded with the leftover pie, and Pansy had gone to collect her daughter. But Alice was keen on catching up with her forgotten friend. She’d fastened the locket around her neck, although Ivan said it only had to be on her person for it to work.

Under the orange afternoon sun, they sat together, one of them at the judging table and the other atop it. They shared an apricot pastry from one of the stalls.

“I feel bad saying this, but I didn’t know it was you that was missing,” Alice admitted.

“It’s fine. From what I’ve gathered about this place, remembering things isn’t easy.”

“So…” She looked away from her food to briefly make eye contact with the little yellow duck. “You don’t know how we got here either?”

“It pains me to say it, but I’m afraid not.” Ivan snorted a huff through his beak. “I remember I was with you before we got here, but then—nothing. I was just bound to that locket from then on.” He shook his head slowly. “Thank you, though.”

“For what?” Alice dropped her gaze to the tablecloth. “I didn’t do a very good job. I failed, even.”

“Sure, you didn’t win. But you still tried to help when you head me calling. Without your interference, I might never have seen sunlight. I’d still be in a drawer somewhere.” With sudden movement, he pointed his wing at her. “Don’t try to dismiss my gratitude!”

“Oh, uh. Wouldn’t dream of it.” She blinked. “But … I don’t know how to say this—but I still feel like I’m missing something.” Realising how this might sound, she quickly added, “I’m really glad I found you, of course! I just feel like there was something else I was missing, like … I don’t know. An answer to something.”

She needn’t have worried about Ivan getting offended. “A sense of purpose? The meaning of life?” He took a few big pecks of his pastry. “A lot of people are looking for answers like that.”

“Maybe something like that. I don’t really know. A reason? To … to …”

“Haven’t you found a reason? All the people here, you know them, don’t you? You care about them, and they care about you, and that’s worth developing.”

Alice thought about it. It was true, most of the people she’d met here were people she already knew. Not that she always knew how, or what that even meant. “I want to figure out why. Not just for me—for them too, I’m convinced this amnesia isn’t just some little quirk. And to repay Pansy for looking after me, and … well, Taylor for helping.”

“That sounds like a good idea to me.” For a split second, Ivan seemed to grin. “How are you going to start?”

“Well… With more pie, maybe. Or … after today, maybe I should try cake. But apart from that, I heard there are job vacancies at Erryton library. And there’s a small property not far off that I can hopefully work towards buying. Libraries have plenty of access to information, so I could start my investigation there, too…”

“It seems like you’ve got it all in hand! No real need to rescue me after all.”

“Don’t be silly.” Though Alice smiled, it soon faltered. “Although, um. I want to figure that out too. You were like – trapped in there, right? That doesn’t seem like a problem you’d usually have…”

“No. It implies I used up a devastating amount of power before whatever happened to our memories. For what reason, I can’t imagine, but it doesn’t bode well.” Ivan shook his wings. “As you can see, my form is still compromised. It’s going to be a few weeks before I can take a less humble shape.”

“Right. I wonder…” A chill breeze drifted through the square. Alice stood. “Oh, we should probably head to Pansy’s before it gets dark.”

“I wouldn’t want to impose.”

“Where else are you going to stay? In Queenie’s drawer?”

“On second thought, dropping in uninvited is fine.”

||Previous|| - ||First||

First Memories

Chapter Six - Fierce Competition

It seemed like no time at all before the first intermission. In order for either of them to make a decent pie, the crust had to rest in the fridge for at least forty minutes, and in Alice’s case so did her apples. Pansy wasn’t really allowed to enquire about how Alice was doing, and so gave her two thumbs up before chatting with the other judges. Taylor couldn’t talk either, he was busy entertaining the crowd, and had invited a one-man-band elf onstage to play music during the wait. Queenie, however, was well within her right to interrogate Alice about her progress.

“I’m impressed you managed to form a substantial dough. Cooking doesn’t seem like your forte.”

Alice sighed quietly at the backhanded compliment. “I didn’t think it was your forte either.”

“On the contrary, I have quite a bit of practice in the kitchen.”

A memory hit Alice like a brick. Queenie didn’t trust anyone with food. Of course she had experience, she didn’t let anyone else cook for her!

“Well—making a pie isn’t rocket science, anyway. I can read and follow a recipe well enough.”

“Can you? What comes next is the hard part. You can’t read experience or presentation.”

It wasn’t worth gratifying her intimidation with further argument. The truth made it hurt, and Alice didn’t need to be cut deeper. “Good luck, Queenie. Thanks for the extra salt, by the way.”

The noble just tittered.

Thirty minutes later, it was time to form the dough into a crust and brush it with egg. Queenie hadn’t made that jab for no reason—it was important to try and make it look nice. In an attempt to do this, Alice went over the edges of her pie with a fork, and she cut out strips of dough to form a crosshatch pattern later. Would the apples be ready yet? It hadn’t been as long as the recipe suggested, but Alice had done her best to chop them into small (somewhat rounded) cubes, having hoped this would help them marinate faster. Taking her chances, she removed them from the fridge and tumbled them into her pie casing, flattening them the best she could before adding the strips of pastry. Getting the whole thing into the oven was a relief, but that meant another forty-minute wait…

Before she could react, Taylor approached her with his microphone.

“And how do you feel about your progress, dear contestant?”

“Um.” Points off for Tay, Alice would have never felt prepared for this. “Fine—it’s fine. I’ll wait to see what the judges think.”

“Humble words!” He spun around. “And how does our other contestant feel about her chances?”

Polar opposite, Queenie leant over for the mic. “It’s no contest. But I believe Alice is right—we certainly will see what the judges think.”

“What a bold claim! Our second contestant thinks she’s got this in the bag. But only time will tell. In the meantime, I’ve got another act for all you lovely folks out there—”

Time to watch another half-baked performance while they waited for the pies to cook. Still, Alice thought it was better to listen than suffer any further hot steam from her opponent…

Ding! Alice’s personal timer was done. She hurried over to the oven. Was it cooked all the way through? The pastry was a golden colour; maybe it could use a few more minutes—but Queenie was already taking hers out! The human debated what to do. Did a few minutes make that much difference? Maybe. But what if—

“Five minutes left!”

In a panic, she opted to remove the pie. It needed those five minutes to cool down.

“Fiiiiiive minutes…!”

“We’re both done, you ignorant fop.” It seemed Queenie was as eager for this to end as Alice was.

“Oh. Well, in that case…” Taylor adjusted his tie with his free hand, washing away the insult with a deep breath. “Both contestants have completed their challenge, and judging will commence shortly. You don’t want to miss that, folks!”

He was right—the crowd, which had thus far been filled with people more interested in milling between stalls, had finally come to attention. This was the part worth watching.

Taylor had introduced the judges earlier, having them speak at occasional intervals, but only now did Alice pay attention to Queenie’s pick.

Half-animan, she had neat, short black hair, cat ears, and a perpetually unimpressed gaze. Taylor had introduced her as Naomi; for once someone Alice couldn't identify. She wondered if Naomi had a discerning palette, or if Queenie was using her as an ace up her sleeve.

The pies were labelled ‘A’ and ‘B’, which each judge receiving a slice of each. Alice’s was Pie B – she stood by with Queenie as they awaited the verdict. Pie A was judged first.

“It’s got a nice leaf design on it,” Pansy observed. Queenie had indeed taken the time to decorate with little pastry leaves. “Hopefully tastes as good as it looks.”

“It’s super nice, visually,” Tech agreed. There was a beat as Naomi waited for him to say something more descriptive. He didn’t.

“An elegant design,” she started. “Care was taken to give each leaf a vein, presumably with a fork. The arrangement of the leaves overall is in a consistent pattern, while still appearing natural. But looks aren’t everything.”

Queenie glowered at her for this last remark, to which the cat lady added, “Anyway, let’s try it.”

Taylor held the mic away as they ate, taking a moment to give Alice a reassuring (and perhaps apologetic) smile.

After a few mouthfuls, Pansy seemed surprised. “This—it’s pretty good.”

“Yeah, really cinnamony,” Tech hummed. “Not too sweet.”

“A delicate balance between sweet and tart; flavourful but not forceful. The cinnamon and hint of ginger brings it together.” Naomi nodded, agreeing. “This recipe refines the meaning of ‘apple pie’.”

“I wouldn’t go that far,” Pansy said carefully. “But it’s tasty.”

They all took a swig of water before taking on Pie B. As she watched, Alice realised she’d been clenching her teeth.

“The crosshatch pattern is cute,” Tech observed, which Pansy readily agreed with.

“Shows it’s cooked well inside.”

Naomi poked it with her fork. “Yes, very traditional. The kind of homeliness you’d expect from an apple pie. Care was taken here, though some lines are slightly askew.”

They began to taste it.

“Tough choice,” Pansy claimed, though the recognition of Alice’s cooking was all too readable on her face. “They’re both real good, but this one—it’s more classic.”

“I feel like … this one’s a bit sweeter.” Tech took another spoonful. “For sure. It’s good—the other one had something extra in it, though. Was that the ginger?”

“I like sweet,” Naomi mused. “Good apples, well cooked… As Miss Pansy noted, it leans into the traditional idea of an apple pie.”

Did that mean it was good or bad? It was hard to tell. Alice hadn’t even considered using anything other than the spices listed in the recipe…

With the tasting done, Taylor prompted them further. “Are the judges ready to make their decision?”

“Yes,” all three said in unison.

“Alright! There should be two cards in front of you—A and B. Please show us whichever one you think should win!”

Pansy raised her card first. B, of course. Naomi was quicker on the draw than Tech. A, also expected. Tech, the only real impartial judge, would be the tiebreaker. He raised his card. Pie A. The winner. Alice had lost.

“And the winner—” Taylor’s words momentarily caught in his throat. He pushed on. “Is Queenie.”

The crowd clapped politely as Queenie took a short bow, stragglers starting to disperse now that the event was over. Alice couldn’t move. There was a tightness in her chest and neck, creeping up to her eyes. Queenie turned to her, ready to gloat.

“Terribly sorry, Webbe… It looks like I’ll be keeping this locket.” From the folds of her clothing, she produced her prize. It twinkled in the sunlight, tantalizing, taunting. “Such a beautiful colour, too…”

Before she could further salt the wound, the necklace erupted in light. Queenie yelped, losing grip in her momentary blindness. As the light emerged, it formed the shape of a small bird and snatched the jewellery from her loosened fingers. It landed on one of the countertops, brightness fading to reveal a little yellow duck, which dropped the necklace at its feet. The duck spoke in a voice that was no louder than anyone else’s, but everyone could hear his words clearly.  “This is not yours to keep.”

The crowd gasped, filtering back in to nosey at this development.

Alice’s face shone with recognition. “Ivan!” Her friend—the one that had given her the locket in the first place. How could she have forgotten him?

“But—” Queenie looked quite affronted by this sudden nonsense. “I won it. It’s rightfully mine, and Alice agreed to it.”

“I heard your terms, but it was never yours to wager,” the duck sapped back. “This necklace belongs to Alice. And what good will it do you, keeping it locked in a drawer? Had I any access to sunlight, I would’ve escaped from it sooner, and rightly reprimanded you!”

“Buh—well—I didn’t know you were inside there.” Queenie raised her head high, briefly glancing at the onlookers. She folded her arms tight. “Am I to understand you’re robbing me of my hard-won victory?”

“Oh no. You still won. Congratulations.” Ivan’s praise couldn’t be emptier. “Your prize is the satisfaction of winning. Next time, get your deals in writing. I think we’re done here.”

Queenie opened her mouth as if to argue, debating whether it was worth further public humiliation.

Pansy spoke up instead. “He’s right, Queenie—I think we can all agree you tried to pull one over, here.”

It was hard to say whether the other judges agreed. Tech looked a little bewildered as he scooped up what was left of the pies, and Naomi was sinking as far into her seat as she could go. But Taylor nodded. Despite this, he tried to save the performance.

“That concludes our cooking competition, folks! If you liked what you saw, be sure to pitch in for another at Erryton’s monthly community meeting!”

---

||Previous|| - ||Next||

First Memories

Chapter Five - Easy as Pie

The competition was to be held three days after their discussion. Alice spent that time getting ready, despite her ever-growing sense of dread. Knowing Queenie, they’d be working in front of an audience, she’d make it the biggest deal possible, and Alice would crack under the pressure. But there was no use being paralysed by fear, she’d just have to do her best…

She had looked online and in Pansy’s cookbooks for the easiest to follow recipe of the highest quality. Ultimately, she’d cobbled together a fusion of several methods that she thought would be best. Some said to precook the apples, others said not to, but she’d made her mind up to follow the latter. This meant marinating the peeled and cut apples in sugar and spices for an hour. It seemed like there would be a lot of waiting time between cooking it all … she wished Taylor had shouted out something less time-consuming.

“The kind of apples you use are important too,” Pansy said from behind her, making her jump. “Got word there’ll be a few to choose from tomorrow.”

Alice wiped her hands on her loaned apron, which had otherwise stayed relatively clean. “What would you recommend?”

“Hmm.” Pansy leant on the doorframe to the kitchen, rubbing her chin. “Pink Ladies? No—maybe Braeburn. Somethin’ I can tell what it is might be better; that’s what I usually use—it’s what you got there. I’d want it to be fair, but … Queenie’s not playing fair.”

“Yeah. I’d expect she might try something.” Alice sighed. A half-finished pie crust lay on the counter before her. “Even if I don’t win though, um. Thank you for taking care of me. I don’t know how to repay you, but I’ll try when I—”

“Aw, you don’t need to do that.” Pansy moved closer to clap her on the shoulder.

“I do! I can’t just take living here for granted. Not like with my parents,” Alice joked. It didn’t get much of a reaction, so she continued, “Thank you, though. Really. I’d be dead two or more times without your help.”

Arms crushed her middle as Pansy swept forward, full of sentimentality. “Aww, you big softie!”

“I’m just being honest—I haven’t done anything to deserve—”

“Simply be! You don’t need to ‘deserve’ being rescued, or fed.”

“I suppose, but that doesn’t make you any less kind.”

Once Alice had escaped the pseuman’s iron grasp, she proceeded to cook her trial pie. When it had cooled she cut a slice for Pansy and mashed up some of the cooked apple for Primrose to try.

“Well…” she hovered as Pansy ate. “Is it any good?”

“It’s not bad.” Pansy chewed on her words as she savoured the pie. “I wasn’t expectin’ my socks to get blown off, but it’s cooked fine, and you’ve spiced it enough. I’d only recommend cutting the apples a bit more even-like tomorrow.”

“Right…” Alice gripped onto the apron fabric. At least it wasn’t awful, then.

Pansy helped spoon some of the apple mush into her daughter’s mouth. “See, Prim likes it.”

“Prim can judge tomorrow instead of you, then.”

Laughing, Pansy put the spoon down. “You’ll do fine! Better yet if you taste it yourself, might give you an idea.”

Alice cut herself a slice, sitting at the table with a cloud of gloom. She put a crumb of the pie in her mouth. It needed custard. “So, if I lose…”

“We’ll just have to think of somethin’ else. Find a trinket she’s willing to trade for, maybe? I don’t expect Miss Dragonpants will be a spectacular cook or anything like that. Someone with that much money has staff to cook for ‘em.”

“I guess you’re right.” Alice felt like there was some crucial detail about Queenie that meant this wouldn’t be the case, but she couldn’t put her finger on it. Oh well. “What should I be expecting tomorrow? Just so it doesn’t keep me up tonight…”

Pansy hesitated. “They’ve set up a sort of makeshift stage with kitchen appliances on it—it was still being done up when I went, but I was impressed. The only advertisement for it’s been word of mouth, but that travels fast here.” She paused again to take in Alice’s expression, in case her horror was too great. It was a manageable amount. “Taylor’s gonna MC—I’m starting to wonder if he ever goes to work! Apart from me n’ Tech, Queenie chose one of her maids as a judge. But tomorrow I’ll take you there, and all you have to do is cook.”

“Ugh … this better be worth it, then.”

In no time at all, the day of the competition was at hand. It was another bright and cheerful spring morning, but Alice trembled as she followed Pansy to Erryton square. They’d been to Pablo’s to drop off Primrose, but the wait only served to make Alice more nervous. She gained a bit of relief on arriving, noticing that the crowd there wasn’t very large, and was mostly scattered around food stalls and makeshift shops. The cooking competition was just an impromptu side-event. The stage, too, wasn’t huge like she’d expected – it was more of a flat platform, barely raised enough to stop people milling over it. Taylor was there, and he beamed at the pair, to which Alice offered a weak smile.

“You ready?” He asked.

“No.”

His eyebrows folded in sympathy. “You’ll do fine. Everyone’s here now, so we’ll start soon. Just stand near your kitchen area—the one on the left—and Pansy,” Taylor shifted his gaze, “You’ll be sitting on that table at the front with the other judges.”

Pansy smiled at Alice, patting her on the shoulder. A lot of people were trying to give her hope today… “Good luck.”

Mid-walk to her seat, Pansy whipped her head toward the kitchen area, pointing an accusatory finger. “Don’t think I don’t see you there, Queenie! You can’t just take Alice’s ingredients and throw the contest.”

Indeed, it seemed the noble had not-so-slyly swiped something from Alice’s setup, caught carrying it away to her station. “Oh, is this Alice’s sugar? My mistake…” She placed it back down on the counter, simpering sweetly.

 Alice frowned. That seemed typical, yes, but was Queenie so careless? Pansy seemed satisfied with this result, however, and doesn’t delay any further. Alice hurried to her cooking station. Everything she needed was here—a selection of labelled apples, flour, an oven and fridge—but there was one thing she was more concerned about. She could hear Taylor speaking to the audience, now, but where was the sugar Queenie had placed? There…

“All right, get ready—”

Alice licked her finger, dipping it in the sugar and tasting it. That wasn’t right, it was—

“—your time starts now!”

Salt.

Time had already started, and Alice looked around frantically to see if she had any actual sugar. To her relief, she still had a whole pot of brown sugar, and her own pot of salt. But Queenie’s sleight of hand had still delayed her start. She got to work, glancing at her hastily scrawled recipe from yesterday evening. Apples first, they had to sit for ages, then dough, which also needed to sit—but before that, preheating the oven. It wasn’t something she ever remembered when cooking for herself, but right now she needed every advantage she could get.

Alice then made the mistake of looking over at Queenie’s workstation. She was midway through peeling her apples and waved cheekily with her knife. Alice fumbled for the Braeburn. She needed a peeler, and the sugar and spices, and . . .

---

||Previous|| - ||Next||

First Memories

Chapter Four - Great Idea

The following day—as Alice insisted they attempt this feat a day later and not immediately—the group stood before the gate to Queenie’s villa. Pansy was sweating bullets as she pressed the button on the intercom.

“Er, hello? Queenie asked me to uh… To look at the roses—her garden.” She sounded utterly unsure of herself. “It’s Pansy.”

With a crackle, an older, masculine voice sounded from the other end. “She did?” A pause. “Well, I’ll let you in, Ms Harte. You did a fine job last time.”

“Thank you, Mr Banks.”

As the gates silently swung open on an automatic motor, Taylor stared at Pansy in amazement. “You know that guy?”

“Yeah, he n’ his wife both live and work here.”

Alice took in an eyeful of the garden as they passed through. Now that she was beyond the gate, it was a lot easier to view how vast and carefully planned all the rose hedges were. Not a single wilting leaf, weed or imperfection was in sight. The dragon fountain stood proudly in the centre, where the paths through the garden met, and there were ornate streetlamps to illuminate the grounds at night. It seemed there was a patio and some wooden structure to the far right, and a white iron table and chairs mirrored on the far left, but Alice didn’t have long to stare before they made it to the house itself.

Entering the double-doors, another staff member—a bodyguard, if his literal stone abs were any indication—was standing by.

“Hey, Bastian,” Pansy greeted the gargoyle with nonchalance. “How’s the cross-stitch comin’?”

“Inadequately, I’m afraid. My clumsy claws weren’t made for it.”

“Naw, you just need a bigger set.”

As the group continued into the building, Taylor gawked at Pansy like she’d grown a second head. “Do you know everyone here?”

“I like chattin’ when I’m working, and I only ever seen about eight folks that actually work for Miss Queenie,” Pansy shrugged. “Now, er—what’s our next move?”

Taylor froze, looking up and tapping his foot quickly.

“…you didn’t think about it, didja. Great.”

Alice tugged at Pansy’s sleeve. “If Mr Banks knows we’re here, doesn’t that mean he’s going to tell—”

“And what,” Queenie began, looming from the banister atop the central staircase, “do you three think you’re doing in my house?!”

The intruders stood still as statues, not one daring to speak. Queenie stormed down the staircase, heels clacking with resounding force.

“Garden?” Pansy finally got out, wholly unconvincing.

“That’s funny, Harte, because I don’t remember asking you to look at my garden.”

Now that they were face-to-face, something in Pansy clicked, and a surge of confidence swept over her. “My bad, I guess you didn’t. Last time we spoke, you were too busy talking about that prized artefact you found, right? Looked real familiar … I’m sure Alice would agree.”

Affronted, Queenie inhaled sharply. “Are you accusing me of theft? And in my own home, trespasser?”

“Is it really trespassing if the doorman let us in?” Taylor offered, grinning nervously.

“Wh—YES, if you lied to gain entry!” Queenie was becoming increasingly flustered. “I don’t know why I’m suffering your argument—Bastian!”

The gargoyle from earlier hulked over.

“Show them the door, if you would be so kind!”

Bastian gripped Alice’s arm, though with an unexpectedly light hold. “If you would forgive me, madam—”

Alice looked up at him, but he was addressing Queenie.

“You did find a gold locket, and if it does belong to this young lady, you could be held accountable for theft by finding. I would not want my Lady’s name to be blackened by such an offence.”

“You would do well to hold your flapping tongue,” Queenie snapped back. As Bastian was about to proceed with his duties, however, she gave it some thought. “No, let them stay. They’ll only keep pestering me about it otherwise.”

“As you wish, Lady Drachen.”

Alice’s audible sigh of relief made Pansy chuckle. “Changed your mind, Miss Dragons?”

Queenie shook her head with reproach. “If you’ll go as far as entering my home … Come, Alice.” She motioned. “Just you. I don’t need your friends influencing your certainty.”

Pansy stepped forward. “Wait just a minute—”

“It’s fine.” Alice held out a hand to stop her. “I don’t want to drag this out.”

“There, see? A sensible girl.” Queenie’s praise dripped with venom. “Now come upstairs. This way.”

Obediently, Alice followed, in part quite eager to see the rest of the villa. The other part of her wondered if she’d ever come back down. Looking back at her friends’ faces said it all.

It was obvious Queenie was a fan of antique interior design. Even her wallpaper had a carved wooden border with looping, intricate patterns. The wallpaper itself was deep blue, floral. In place of candleholders, there were ornate silver wall lamps, and plenty of portraiture. Not to mention how many rooms there seemed to be—it was enough to keep track of, but far too large for a home.

Queenie opened one of the doors, and Alice remembered the task at hand, following her inside. The room had barely any light coming through the curtains, and it looked like it hadn’t been used for a while, but it was furnished in a similar manner to the rest of the house. Of all the rooms Alice had ever anticipated being locked in, it was the nicest. But Queenie wasn’t locking anything. She was busy taking a cloth-wrapped object out of a drawer.

Uncovering it, she asked, “There. Has this ever belonged to you?”

Alice gazed upon the gleaming object. If it were hers, it had been polished since, but it resounded with familiarity. Even so, being put on the spot made her nervous. Especially as an amnesiac. What if she were wrong? … Queenie had isolated her on purpose.

“Alice, help…”

“It spoke,” said Alice, stunned.

“It did?” Queenie studied her with a quizzical gaze, then stared back at the locket. “That doesn’t answer my question, Webbe.”

“Oh. Yes, it’s mine.”

“Prove it.”

Alice met Queenie’s eyes. They were stern, unflinching. The human couldn’t maintain visual contact for long. “It called me by name. I think that’s proof enough.”

“It’s not proof if I didn’t hear it.” Queenie lifted the pendant, eyeing its reflective surface.

“Well … I washed up on the beach, so where did you find it?”

The noble considered her answer carefully. “Not near you, by any means.”

“But you found it on the beach, didn’t you?”

Queenie didn’t answer.

“That locket was given to me by a friend,” Alice continued. She didn’t know where this knowledge had come from, but she knew it wasn’t false. “You’re a dragon—you know how much more value a treasure with sentimental attachment holds.”

Though stiff, Queenie agreed. “…More than its measure in carat. But it’s enchanted, too. I don’t know about talking, but I can tell it’s made to improve upon your weaknesses.”

“Then you admit it’s mine?”

“I admit that it was made to increase someone’s chances of survival.” She covered it with the cloth once more. “But in light of that … I have a proposal for you, Webbe.”

“I’m not going to marry you for it.”

“That is not what I meant, and you know it!” Queenie huffed, staring her down. “Consider your standing. But I will give you this locket – on the condition that you rightly win it from me.”

“Oh.” It seemed like this was the best deal she was going to get… “Alright then, at what?”

“I haven’t decided yet.”

“It has to be fair. I refuse if it’s a duel.”

“Oh yes, because you’d die.”

Alice blew air up at her fringe to tousle it, venting her grievances. “Uh-huh.  With my life at stake, I think we should go back and discuss this ‘competition’ with my friends.”

“If you insist.” Queenie placed the locket back inside the drawer, a forceful thunk securing it there. “Don’t expect it to be in there if you pay another unexpected visit later.”

“I’m not a burglar, even if it is mine.”

As they returned to the central hall, Alice caught a glimpse of Pansy’s tightly folded arms and Taylor’s unsettled frown. Their expressions changed at once when they saw her, bright and eager.

“Custard! Did you get it back?” Pansy was first to ask.

“Not exactly—” Alice started, before Queenie cut over her.

“Miss Webbe and I have come to an arrangement.” She sniffed. “I have no guarantee that it’s hers, so if she wants it, she has to earn it.”

Pansy’s face clouded again. “Why of all the slimy—”

“It’s alright, Pansy,” Alice insisted. Being alert meant playing safe. “I agreed to it. But I wanted your input on how we should compete. So that it’s fair.”

Taylor shook his head slowly. “But Alice—if you lose…”

“I’ll be in the same situation I’m in now, really.” She shrugged.

“See? You should all strive to be as polite and reasonable as Miss Webbe.” Queenie’s wicked smile wasn’t reassuring.

Pansy groaned but began to give the idea some thought. “How about a writing contest?”

“Absolutely not.” Queenie shot down her suggestion.  “She said something fair. I won’t allow pandering to Alice’s skillset.”

Alice muttered, “I’m not confident I could best Queenie’s poetry, either.”

“Well—how about a quiz?” Taylor offered.

Rejected. “You’ll rig it.”

There was a brief pause while everyone thought. Pansy pursed her lips. “I don’t think either of you are known for your baking skills. How about a cooking competition? Making, er…”

“Apple pie,” Taylor suggested, eagerly awaiting approval.

At last, Queenie didn’t seem to have any complaints. “A baking contest suits me just fine. I can get a venue set up in town square and find a judge—”

“Three judges.” Alice folded her arms. “Pansy cooks enough to judge baking. Whoever you choose will want to throw things in your favour. And we should have a third, impartial judge to cast the deciding vote.”

Queenie rolled her eyes. “A gourmet, then?”

“Maybe not a gourmet,” Tay interjected. They’d have to be hired, after all, and Queenie was the one with the money. “Any rando with tastebuds should do.”

The heiress mulled over the terms, and after a short while she turned to her bodyguard, who had been waiting on standby. “Bastian, since you’re not terribly busy at the moment … go and fetch us the nearest willing candidate you can find.”

“Yes, My Lady.” He strode out, letting an awkward silence settle over the group. Everyone looked at Queenie. She didn’t flinch.

Pansy checked her watch.

“So—” Taylor started, immediately cut off as Bastian re-entered. He was shepherding a scrawny, lop-eared man by the shoulder.

“Rando with tastebuds brought, as requested.” He returned to his post, leaving the man to tremble under the pressure. Alice knew him. He was—

“Name, if you please,” Queenie demanded.

“Elliott Howell—well, um, most people actually call me Tech, Miss—”

“Lady.” After her reprimand, she turned to Alice. “Mr Howell should be a suitable enough judge, wouldn’t you agree?”

Tech continued to babble, “Um—was this about judging food, or something? The uhm, the man said something like—well it wasn’t for money, but if I can take some of the food home I’m fine with—”

“Yeah, he’ll do.”

---

||Previous|| - ||Next||

First Memories

Chapter Three - Return to Sender

The next morning, there was a letter on Pansy’s doormat.

Alice picked it up to get a better look at the loopy, eloquent handwriting. It was addressed to her. She opened it at once, breaking the wax seal.

Dear Miss Webbe,

It is with careful consideration that I have chosen to respond to your request.

I am impressed that someone who rolled into town with nothing to their name would be bold enough to make such an enquiry.

Even with this considered, I am not accepting visitors at this time, nor will I be in the foreseeable future. I apologise for any inconvenience this may have caused. I’m sure you were eager to meet again.

Sincerely, with my condolences,

Queenie Von Drachen

So much for being alert. Alice showed the letter to Pansy over breakfast.

“Huh, now that’s a problem. I’m willin’ to bet she knows exactly why you want to see her.” She pauses to offer Primrose a spoonful of mush, who eats it without issue. “’Meet again’, though? Do you remember how you met the first time?”

“Not at all. But I know we must have.” Alice stirs her spoon around the bowl of o-shaped cereal in front of her. “How am I doing to ask her about my necklace now?”

“Catch her.”

“Sorry?”

“Catch her outside the villa. She doesn’t stay in there all day every day, she’d go stir-crazy.”

“Well, okay… but if I see her, what am I going to say?”

As Pansy inhales to answer, there’s a knock at the door. “Could you get that, Alice?”

“Ok.” Alice gets up and walks out to unlatch the door. It’s Taylor.

“Hey, how’s it going? Can I come in?”

Without replying, Alice steps to one side. She nods at him.

“Thanks.” Taylor walks through, already seeming to know where Pansy is. “Hi, came to see how things were going. Don’t have to work until three.”

“Heya—things? Like with Custard here?”

“Haha, I like that—but pretty much. Since, you know, she just showed up out of the blue an’ all.” He slaps his knees as he joins the table.

Alice sat back down, hoping it would remind them she was in the room. “We were just talking about the letter Queenie sent.”

Taylor’s eyes widened. “Queenie wrote to you? Can I see?”

“It was a reply,” Alice explained, sliding her letter over. “We think she has something that belongs to me. I’ve been having weird dreams about it.”

Pansy, while lifting Prim out of her highchair, commented, “This is first I’ve heard ‘bout these dreams.”

“It just seemed like a load of nonsense brought on by stress,” Alice mumbled.

“Right, so she won’t meet with you.” Taylor put the card down, newly informed. “She might actually be busy, or think she’s above you, but then why write at all? It’s a bit sus.”

“I was telling her,” Pansy insisted, “She’s gotta catch Queenie outside.”

“And I was saying,” Alice interjected, “what in the world am I going to say to her?!”

Giving this some thought, Taylor stared down at the letter. “Well, Queenie likes being buttered up, that’s for sure. You could start with that.”

“I don’t want to lie…”

“Don’t have to. She’s very fussy about her appearance, you only have to go on about how much effort she’s put in. Oh, but don’t make it sound like an insult.”

Alice cringed at the thought. Complimenting people wasn’t too hard, but it felt bad having an ulterior motive. Then again, Queenie was potentially keeping her possessions hostage—stealing, really—and that was worse. It wasn’t like she could go up and say, ‘You’re hiding something! Give me my necklace back!’ It just wouldn’t go down well. “I suppose we’ll scope out the villa and see what days she usually comes out, then.”

“She usually turns up in the town square on—oh, today,” Pansy offers, trying to make things easier, much to Alice’s horror. “We can go right now. Taylor, would you mind staying to look after Prim?”

“Er, sure.”

Alice dared not argue with the plan, but she’d been hoping to mentally prepare herself before being thrust outdoors to confront the noblewoman. Any hopes that Queenie wouldn’t be there were shattered when the square came into view. There she was, dressed to the nines in her blue gown, making conversation with a passerby. They left in a huff after Queenie said something she’d apparently found very amusing herself.

Pansy gave Alice a little nudge, and a reassuring smile. The human replied with a flat frown, annoyed that she’d chosen this to be some test of independence.

“Er, Queenie…” Alice started, scurrying up to ensure the noble wouldn’t make an unannounced getaway.

“Well, if it isn’t Alice Webbe.” Queenie was smiling, but it wasn’t clear whether she was pleased to see her or if she was contemplating a rude remark. “You’ve forgotten my title, I take it? Or perhaps my letter made you think we’re on first-name terms?”

“Are we…?”

“I’ll allow it, but don’t forget who you’re talking to.”

Alice remembered what Taylor said. “I came over to talk to you about the letter, actually, but I understand you’re busy—and I wanted to compliment you on how lovely your dress is.”

“Oh?” Queenie raised an incredulous eyebrow. “It is lovely, isn’t it. This is one of my favourites.”

“I really like your hair, too. Your ringlets are really stylish.” It was the truth, but Alice hoped she wasn’t laying it on too thick.

“Do you?” Queenie touched one of her deep brown ringlets, giving it a light tug. “You seem quite taken with my appearance, Miss Webbe. I didn’t realise your request to see me was so … dear to your heart.”

“Oh, er—actually—” Whoops. “Pansy said you’d found something that might belong to me.”

There wasn’t the slightest change in Queenie’s expression. “Something of yours? Hmm… I haven’t found anything with your name on it. I don’t usually pick up other people’s lost personal effects.”

“It’s a locket. A gold one.”

The heiress gave this some more thought—or pretended to. “I might’ve found something like that … but if I did, why would I give it back~?”

“Because—because it’s mine?!”

“As stated, I have nothing with your name on it. It was nice speaking with you, Webbe, but I must be off.” Queenie spun around, starting with a brisk walk before breaking into a run.

Momentarily stunned, Alice began to give chase. “Hey, wait!”

Pansy, who spent this time watching from afar, grasped the situation and started running too. Queenie was quick on her feet, and had a head start, but her bustle was slowing her down. Ever elegant, she lifted her skirt to continue, but her heels weren’t doing her any favours either.

As Alice dodged and weaved through passers-by, topiaries and market stalls, she felt her lungs burning. She wasn’t sure what she was going to do when she caught up—tackle Queenie or grab her arm—but right now she had to focus on getting there. Her own speed surprised her. “Can’t run fast in those shoes, can you?!”

Taunting her hadn’t been a wise idea. Queenie turned heel, outstretching her arm with a swooping ‘come here then’ motion, blasting dark ice onto the open road. It formed a slippery trail, finished with jagged icicles. Alice barely had time to react, shoes losing grip, careening toward frosty daggers. She braced for impact. But before she could be impaled, something stopped her. The icy thorns were inches away from her face . . . but were thankfully staying there. A warm feeling, a pink glow enveloped her whole body. Pansy’s telekinetic hold. She set her down away from the danger, rushing over. But Alice only seemed to have one thing on her mind. “D’you think that was ice magic or shadow magic?”

“Alice, you almost got seriously injured!”

“Oh—yes, and thank you for saving me.” She nods vigorously to show her gratitude. “I’ve just never seen ice this colour before—it’s sort of purple-black, like it’s composed more of dark matter, but definitely frozen…”

“It was almost red,” Pansy grumbles. “But if you really wanna know, I’ve never been able to damage her much, so her magicore ain’t ice.”

“Interesting—so her family must have taught her ice magic, probably due to their heritage.”

“Wh—yuh—” Pansy raises her hands, giving up. “Yeah, yeah, probably. She got away, so there’s no use chasing her no more. And—agh—I have a headache now.”

Alice looked back in the direction where Queenie had made her escape. One of the town residents was poking at the icicles. Alice sighs. “I suppose this puts us back at square one. Even if I try to get Queenie’s attention again, she’s just going to run away.”

“Mmn,” Pansy mutters, rubbing her temples. “Let’s go back to Taylor and see if he has any bright ideas.”

In the short time they’d been out, Taylor had constructed an obstacle course for Primrose to crawl through out of sofa cushions, blankets and pillows. He tried to excuse this behaviour as soon as Alice and Pansy walked in.

“It’s, er, it seemed like she’d have fun with it.”

“It’s cute,” Pansy chuckled, putting her keys up on their hook. She picked up Primrose, greeting her with mushy nonsense words.

Taylor directed his attention to Alice. “So, how’d it go?”

“Badly.” She folded her arms inwards. “It almost worked, but I think I got to my point too quickly. She ran.”

“Queenie nearly killed her, by the way!” Pansy interjected, her tone turning firm. “It’s not like she doesn’t know humans take damage different.”

“What’d she do?” Taylor stood, outstretching his arm as if to shield Alice from further harm.

Alice shook her head. “Oh, she just tried to make me slip—”

“Into a wall of ice spikes!” Pansy refuted.

“She probably knew you’d stop me.”

“Good goddesses, why are you defending her? I think you need a rest. Maybe some tea.” Pansy set Primrose down in Taylor’s arms, hurrying into the kitchen. Alice began to put the cushions back where they belonged.

“Are you okay, Alice?”

“Yes, Pansy saved me.”

“I mean emotionally. This plan was a bit…”

“Of a failure? I’m fine. Maybe a little embarrassed. I just want my stuff back.”

“But—”

“This isn’t the first time someone’s tried to kill me. And it won’t be the last.”

“Still… I don’t think that makes it okay.” Taylor held himself, not sure how else to tackle her statement. Primrose peered over his arms, staring intently at Alice as if she were part of the conversation. “Abaabwa.”

“Really.” Alice couldn’t hide her smile. “Taylor, do you have any other ideas about how we can get Queenie to ‘fess up?”

“I could give you a boost over her fence?”

“Yeah, that’s not happening. I was thinking more of an excuse to get permitted entry.”

Pansy reappeared with a tea-tray, a cup for each of them and a sugar bowl. “It’s not usually Queenie that opens her gates anyways.” She sets the tray down on a low table. “She’s got maids and butlers and stuff to deal with it.”

“Maybe we could get in via one of them, then? When did you go inside?”

“Oh, it was for gardening stuff. Maybe, though. She pays them well, they’re pretty loyal…”

“We could tell them you’re there to do the garden, and go in with you,” Taylor suggested, lighting up at his own idea.

Pansy put her mug to her lips with a frown. “I, er…” She took a sip. “I don’t know if they’d buy that, but I s’pose it’s worth a shot.”

“I don’t like lying,” Alice muttered, adding sugar to her tea.

“It’s the best idea we have, unless you’ve got a better one.” Taylor shook his head. “Better than trespassing.”

“You were the one that came up with the idea to trespass!”

“Hey, it would’ve worked.”

---

||Previous|| - ||Next||

First Memories

Chapter Two - Waiting and Wandering

Alice sat in the window-seat of her guest bedroom, peering through the glass and into the garden below. It was a warm, mid-spring afternoon.

Two days had passed since she woke up on the beach. Her parents back home knew she was fine, but they hadn’t been able to shed any light on the situation—they thought she’d been staying with Pansy in the first place. Physically Alice was feeling a lot better, though her memory remained patchy, and she’d been having strange dreams. Dreams where someone was distantly calling out for help; someone she knew. She couldn’t do anything. It made her feel helpless. But this morning she’d managed to finish a letter, and Pansy had posted it for her. Now all they had to do was wait. She hoped it was formal enough. It was full of please can you’s and if you wouldn’t mind’s. There was no good in accusing Queenie of taking her things, nor could she simply invite herself over to the villa, so treading carefully was her best bet.

Pansy’s garden was a sight to behold. It wasn’t the largest in Erryton, but even from where Alice sat she could see the vibrant colours and carefully cared for greenery. Roses and tulips, peonies and primroses, hydrangea, rutabaga… It made her feel like she should be outside, so she decided to get up.

Steadily, she made her way downstairs. Neither Pansy nor her baby were at home right now—unfortunately, Alice hadn’t really been listening, so she didn’t remember where they’d gone. Leaving a note on the living room table, she took the spare key and went out, locking the door behind her.

The sun was as pleasantly warm as it looked, and there was a gentle breeze in the air to ease the temperature. Alice didn’t know where she was going, but she started her walk. Erryton seemed to be a blend of rural and commercial, with plenty of stone and brick buildings. Pansy’s home was closer to the grassland than the others, but from where Alice walked she could see both the ocean and a road to town square. She thought it looked quite tidy; all the important buildings were at the heart of the city and down at the port. The further away you got, the more the land was lush and leafy. That wasn’t to say there weren’t spots of green in town – there was a local park, and an effort had been made to add trees to the main roads every-other-streetlamp. There were a few cars on the road, but not many. It was that time of day where everyone was already where they were meant to be.

Alice found herself drifting away from the centre of town. Despite the inviting atmosphere, she didn’t want to be among other people right now. Instead, she made her way north, toward a spacious plot of land. An impressively large home stood there, cut off from view by a brick wall, trimmed bushes, and an ornate black gate. It was even further from town square than Pansy’s house. This had to be Queenie’s Villa.  Alice stood on her tiptoes to peer through the black bars and get a better view of the garden inside. There was a marble fountain out front, carved to feature dragons. It made a soothing, trickling sound, and had a big, paved path beneath it. On either side were blue rosebushes as far as the eye could see – which, from where Alice stood, wasn’t very far. Tilting her head, she took a look at the villa itself. It was a modern build, but it had been designed to look old-fashioned. Despite its largeness, she was surprised Queenie hadn’t gone bigger.

She didn’t want to be caught staring, so she took a step back. Faintly, she thought she heard something—was someone calling to her from the house? Alice squinted, straining her eyes and ears for the sight or sound of someone. There was no one in the garden, or near the house. Her eyes were instead drawn to the intercom, and then to the letterbox hung on the gate. If she were braver, she’d call in and ask right there. But she wasn’t, so she walked away.

Perhaps what she heard came from behind the house. It took some walking to get to the other side, paved path becoming trodden grass, but beyond the villa was a dense evergreen forest. Alice took a few steps off the path toward it. If she went through there, then maybe…

“Hey, dumbass!”

Alice froze at the sound of the masculine voice, fearing confrontation. Once she mustered up the courage to turn, however, her apprehension became annoyance. She knew who that was.

On the dirt road, the door to a rusty red pickup truck opened to reveal a man with a farm jacket and muddy boots, who strode over to begin his lecture. “I know you’ve got a fuzzy head or whatever, but you can’t just wander in there! A pack of wulves would tear you apart right out the gate. Hell, human like you’d even get trampled by a heartstag…”

Alice scowled, cheeks burning red. She knew he was right; she hadn’t been thinking, but he was being too rude for her to admit it. “It’s nice to see you too, Pablo,” she said sourly. “How did you know I was here? Do you have a sixth sense that tells you when pathetic humans are nearby?”

“I was just telling it how it is, nothing personal.” He ran a hand through is hair, scratching there and considering his next sentence. “I didn’t. Stopped the truck ‘cause your friend noticed you by the road, said he—”

“Alice!”

She had less than a second to brace herself before a dashing blur scooped her into a hug. Thankfully, said blur had very scrawny arms.

“Uff—Taylor?” Alice squirmed a little. “It’s good to see you but, uh, could you maybe … not?”

“Sorry—sorry,” he released the hold immediately. “I was overexcited; it’s been a long time since we’ve seen eachother. How many years has it been? It must have been when I left Forsythia, but the exact details escape me.”

“Uh, yep.” Alice nodded stiffly, uncomfortably reminded of the town’s collective amnesia. Looking him up and down, she didn’t think it would be good to mention that she couldn’t remember how they’d met—not right now, anyway. She did remember that Taylor was human, just like her, and a close friend. But not remembering how made her feel a secret shame.

Pablo decided it was time to interrupt. “Pansy told me you only got up a few days ago. Good to see you gettin’ fresh air, but I figure I should take you back right around now.”

“Oh—probably,” Alice said slowly. So much had happened in the span of a few minutes—she supposed she’d have to leave the forest behind. There was no guarantee that the voice hadn’t just been imaginary anyway.

Pablo’s truck was a two-seater, and his son was wating patiently inside, so the pair of humans had to get in the back.

“This doesn’t feel very safe,” Alice mumbled.

“Don’t worry,” Taylor reassured her, “Pablo drives slow, and there’s this belt strap you can hold onto when there’s bumps in the road.” He showed her the worn attachment behind them.

“I’d prefer a seatbelt…”

After a steady drive, they were back on the main road, and Pablo’s truck stopped outside Pansy’s house. Alice felt wobbly getting out, but Taylor offered her a hand, which helped.

Pansy’s front door was already open, and Pablo’s son ran ahead inside once they heard voices within.

“We were already headed this way,” Pablo explains, talking to Alice while facing away, “Pansy took Lyra out with her, and they said they’d be coming back here to make dinner.”

So that’s where Pansy had gone. As Pablo and Taylor entered the doorway, Alice followed and tried to remember who Lyra was. Pablo’s wife, decidedly. She didn’t know her very well. Despite this, she recognized the mermaid when she saw her—and soon remembered that Lyra wouldn’t be able to do the same. But the others were doing the talking for her.

“Mom, I brushed the baby goat. It was so soft.”

“That’s lovely, Ashe. Those new fluffy chicks will be coming soon too, right Pablo?”

Her husband nodded slowly. “Yes. Though they won’t be fluffy to start with.”

Taylor, unable to stay quiet for long, announced himself. “Good afternoon! Alice and I have returned to spend time with you all. Where’s Miss Pansy?”

In the midst of the hubbub, Alice noticed that there was an orange aquatic cat-creature settled on Lyra’s lap. Opening its eyes no more than a sliver, it batted Lyra with a paw. This seemed to give her the clear to turn her wheelchair in the direction of Taylor’s voice. “Good afternoon,” she replied with a slight smile. “She’s in the kitchen. Now, Alice, I don’t think we’ve met before. But Pansy’s been telling me a lot about you.”

“Um, yes.” Alice fidgeted. She wasn’t sure what to say to that, and everyone was looking at her with unspoken expectations. “Nice to meet you.” How did she recognize what Lyra looked like if this was their first meeting? Maybe she’d seen a photograph…

Lyra laughed, though Alice wasn’t sure what the joke was. “Don’t worry, she didn’t tell me anything incriminating. Only that she’s been calling you ‘Custard’ since you washed up in Custard Cove. But that’s okay. I’ve washed up on the beach before too.” As if to emphasise her point, she flicked the fins of her mermaid tail. “And Taylor—looking around the farm again, were you?”

Pablo grunted. “Loitering, more like.”

Taylor took this in good humour. “I have time off! And it’s a good thing I did, or I wouldn’t have met up with my old friend.” He gave a warm glance back at Alice, but it made her insides feel like wet cardboard.

“I was just taking a walk,” Alice explained. “You know, to get my head right. I’ve never really been around Erryton before.”

Now that he’d lost his mother’s attention, Ashe seemed completely disengaged with the adults’ conversation and wandered off into another room. He returned carrying a startled Primrose, who herself was gripping onto a large foam piece of jigsaw. Pablo headed over at once to supervise.

Lyra’s finned ears pricked, picking up on this movement, but she was still focused on Alice’s words. “Oh yes. Erryton’s quite a big place. Not as big as my hometown, mind you, but big enough to lose your bearings if you’re not familiar with the lay of the land.”

“Yes, um.” Alice’s eyes darted down as the creature in Lyra’s lap yawned. “Is this your cat?”

“This is Mango. More specifically, she’s a fishkit, and my seeing-eye cat.” Lyra’s smile widened. “She can also speak for herself.”

“Mango does not wish to speak to the rabble,” the orange lump grumbled.

Taylor shrugged, raising eyebrows at Alice. “If you want one that’ll talk to you, there’s a real chatty purple one near the docks.”

“Bloosh,” Mango spat.

“I see.” Alice looked back at Lyra. Her red hair obscured most of her face, but it was clear she found Alice’s choice of words amusing. “I mean, um. Maybe I’ll try that sometime. Does anyone know what Pansy’s making for dinner?”

“Curry.” Pansy’s voice. The humans turned to see her emerging from the kitchen, wooden spoon in-hand and a bright expression on her face. “There’s plenty for everyone, if you’d all so kindly take a seat in the dining room, we can get started.”

Everyone began to filter through, but Lyra stayed put. “Alice,” she stopped her.

“Er—yeah?”

“Pansy also mentioned you’d written to Miss Von Drachen. I don’t know much about Lady Queenie herself, but my family has some history with hers.”

Alice felt silly repeating herself, but she wanted to hear more. “Yeah…?”

“You seem like a nice girl. So … I’m warning you to be careful. The Von Drachens—they’re not the kind of people that hand things over without a catch.”

Nodding, Alice remembered she should vocalise. “Yes—I will. Um. Thank you for your concern, Lyra. I’ll try to be alert.”

“No problem—now let’s go get some curry, shall we?”

---

||Previous|| - ||Next||

First Memories

Chapter One - Custard Cove

Roaring shoreline. Lapping waves. Warm sun, salty air, chirping seagulls. Drifting in and out of consciousness, these were the sounds and senses Alice recognised.

Movement was impossible, her limbs felt like they were full of cement—or perhaps sand, as plenty lay beneath her. Somehow, she wasn’t damp. Perhaps the sun had dried her out. She didn’t feel sunburnt. All she wanted to do was sleep, though the pull of the sea was a real threat. In this state, it was difficult to feel strongly about anything.

“Alice?”

Was someone there? There was a blurry, indistinct shape peering over her. Yes, it was probably a person. It was too much of a strain to keep her eyes open, so they fluttered shut.

“Can you hear me? Alice!"

Alice awoke in a warm house, surrounded by cushions. A large stuffed owl sat nearby, presumably for her comfort. There was sand in her hair, and she felt like she needed a wash, but the blanket she’d been covered with was still clean. Something about the room she was in was familiar, but she wasn’t sure what it was. It wasn’t just the floral-patterned wallpaper, or the lavender and earthy wood scents, or the comforting babble of voices from beyond the door. The familiarity came from a combination of all three.

Pansy’s.

This wasn’t the same house she knew. Or was it? Moving her limbs was still somewhat strenuous, but Alice forced herself off the guest-bed, inching forward with the hope of confirming her suspicions. She didn’t want to make a fuss. Poking her head around the bedroom door, she saw a hallway, some few doors on her left and the banister and stairs to her right. This was the furthest room upstairs, then. Feeling nosy, she shuffled out and opened the first door to her left, which was revealed to be a bathroom. To decide on how to proceed, Alice glanced back over to the stairwell. There was nothing she wanted to do more than take a bath right now. It didn’t seem like anyone was coming, so she entered, locking the door behind her.

The bath did well to ease her exhaustion. Soap, shampoo, and conditioner were conveniently available, and there was enough in the containers that she didn’t feel guilty about using them. Midway through her wash, there was a tap on the door, making her freeze. A familiar voice brought her relief again.

“You in there?”

“Having a bath,” Alice replied with haste.  

“Oh, sorry—that’s alright. I’ll see if I can find you somethin’ to wear. I’ll put it outside the door, okay?”

“Okay.”

Footsteps that had to belong to Pansy tromped down the hallway as Alice resumed her bath. She hoped she wasn’t being a bad guest; she hadn’t even spoken to her host face-to-face, but Pansy didn’t sound like she minded. Besides, the circumstances were already unusual. Alice borrowed a towel from the cupboard to dry herself, though remained in the bathroom until she was sure Pansy dropped clean clothes by the door.

Once Alice slid the clothes through the door and put them on, she was ready to go downstairs. Her host had provided a pair of pyjamas and a dressing gown to cover herself with, both of which were slightly too large, but clothes were clothes. Alice tied the gown’s belt tightly around her waist so that nothing would fall down, then carried her sandy outfit to the living room. She was surprised by what she saw. Her deduction had been correct, this was indeed Pansy’s house and the pyrokinetic pseuman was sat on one of the living room’s sofas. What Alice hadn’t accounted for was the infant settled on Pansy’s lap.

Before she could think to say anything, Pansy noticed her. “Alice! I’m so glad you’re okay. Seein’ you lying on the beach like that frightened me something awful.”

“Oh, um…” Alice shuffled further into the room and sat on the adjacent sofa, putting the clothing-load beside her. “Sorry.”

“Not your fault—I’ll wash those for you when I’m done with Prim here.” She nodded, adjusting her hold on the child. “How’d you end up there?”

Alice frowned, trying her best to recall. How did she end up on the shoreline? What was she doing before that? The more she thought, the less she understood. She didn’t want to admit how patchy her memory was. “I don’t … remember.” Before Pansy could express concern, Alice directed her attention to the baby and asked, “Where’d you get that?”

Pansy’s troubled frown morphed into a grin. “My daughter? Gave birth.”

“You married?” Alice prompted.

“No, unfortunately. I’ll tell you the whole story sometime, but for now let’s just say I, er, found Mr Wrong.”

“Ah, um, okay.” She rubbed her neck. “Her name’s Prim?”

“Yeah! Short for Primrose. She’s a psychic.”

“But I thought—” Alice paused, blinking, thankful that she could still remember facts she’d picked up about pseumans. “—that your kind didn’t develop powers until you were twelve.”

“Prim’s kinda like Mom,” Pansy explained. “Got her powers early. Gonna be some effort to train her, but I couldn’t be more proud.”

“I see. I’m not the biggest baby enthusiast, but she’s cute. Eyes like yours.”

“Aww, thanks.” She smiled warmly, before returning to an interrogative stare. “But hey, this isn’t about me. Don’t think I’ve forgotten what you said just now. You can’t remember how you washed up here?”

“I can’t.” Alice recoiled in her seat. “If you don’t mind me asking, where exactly is ‘here’ anyway?”

“This place? Erryton.” Pansy nodded. “Costal town near Glimmer City, moved here only recently m’self. And while I’ll admit I’m concerned about you, hon, that bout of amnesia isn’t uncommon for folks here.”

The human’s eyes widened. “It’s … common? Isn’t that worrying for the townspeople?!”

“Well… nah. It’s not big stuff usually, it’s more or less a memory-gap. Only what they were doing before they got here—not where they came from or how to get back home. Some folks can remember how they arrived, but not how long they’ve been here. And apart from that, it’s the ideal neighbourhood.”

“You’re taking this very calmly, Pansy,” Alice squeaked, nearly standing until her exhaustion dragged her back down. “If everyone is forgetting, I’d want to leave before it gets any worse—”

“Well, that’s the thing—it doesn’t get worse.” Pansy shrugged her shoulders. Primrose squirmed in her arms, but she was only stretching. “Nobody forgets any more ‘n that.”

“I just think it’s something someone should be looking into,” Alice huffed, shaking her head. “But anyway, there’s one small thing I do remember.”

“What’s that?”

“I think I’ve lost something. Or that I was looking for something. Not always the same thing.” She scratched behind her ear, glancing over at one of Pansy’s many potted plants. “But I don’t know what it is.”

“Hmm…” Pansy thought for a moment, before snapping her fingers with inspiration. Her daughter stared at her hand in surprise. “Actually, I think Queenie found something of yours! I haven’t seen you around for ages, so I didn’t think much of it at the time, but she was showin’ it off and stuff.”

“Queenie?” Alice searched her memory banks for the name. Yes, she knew Queenie. Somehow. Rich, lived in a mansion, part dragon, had an affinity for blue roses, was … dead? Evidently not. “What’s the something?”

“A necklace. A sort of, you know, one of those heart lockets?” Pansy gestured at nothing. “Can’t prove it is yours or nothin’, but I remember you had one, ‘cause it was enchanted for your HP. And it doesn’t look like you got it no more.”

Alice pondered this. It wasn’t leaping out at her as the thing she’d been looking for—there was no ‘aha!’ moment. But there was no question about it, she’d lost her locket too. “It could be. Maybe she even knows what happened to me.” Or, heaven forbid, she was what happened. “What should I do? I can’t just walk into her house, can I?”

“Nah, you’re right about that. Queenie’s villa isn’t someplace you can just waltz into. But you could always write her a letter? I know she reads ‘em.”

“A letter.” So they were playing the long game. “Better than nothing, I suppose. Ugh…”

“You okay?”

“I’m just exhausted.”

Pansy stood up, carrying Prim over her shoulder. “A’ight, I think it’s about time I made you something to eat. I’ll wash those clothes for you, and you can rest here as long as you need. Though I reckon we should call your parents sometime soon, let ‘em know you’re here.”

“Okay. Thank you.” Alice hesitated before adding, “I’m glad you’re the one that found me.”

“Me too!”

---

|| Next ||

“Another scone, Miss Webbe?”

“One is plenty, thank you.”

There’s a stiff silence as the human brings the teacup to her lips. Queenie seems to take this quiet as a mercy, gently rolling the pram beside her back and forth.

Alice’s eyes flicker over to each of the tearoom’s doors. “Where’s Alarune?”

“You’d like to know that, wouldn’t you?” Queenie titters. She doesn’t answer the question. “Still, I appreciate you coming to visit now that our baby has arrived.”

The teacup is returned to its saucer. “Sorry, but what was it you named her? I missed that.”

“We had to think on it for a while. I had so many suggestions ready—Beryl, Alexandria, Goldie—but when I saw her, I knew those wouldn’t do.”

Exhaling deeply, Alice tried to subdue her impatience. “What did you decide on, then?”

“Mandragora. An apt name, wouldn’t you say?” Stilling her hands, she smiled down at the pram—more so at the baby within. “Mandy for short.”

“Like—the plant?” Alice sat up straighter. “That’s quite clever, actually.”

“Isn’t it?” Queenie beamed with pride. “It was Alarune’s suggestion, of course.”

An unwelcome guest drifts in through the left wall, who stops to hover over the table and lounge in the air. “It’s because she cries all the time, like the mandrakes of legend. The rare occasions she’s behaving, though, she’s a sweet little thing.”

Alice nods to acknowledge Julia’s presence, which offers more grace than Queenie’s glowering.

“Anyway—I expect you didn’t just come to talk about my baby. I know you, Webbe. You’re not the cooing, doting type. What’s going on in town?”

Julia leans forward. “Oh yes, tell us. We do like a bit of gossip,” she insists.

“Well, er…” Alice tenses up again. She had hoped to hear Queenie’s insight, despite her advice often being blunt, twisted and best ignored. It offered alternative avenues that she’d never think of herself, and gave the human a clearer picture of what not to do. But now she had a larger audience. “Taylor’s leaving in January. And I’ve been having bad dreams.”

Queenie rolls her eyes, picking up her own cup—which was, of course, full of water. “Oh, now you’re having dreams, but not when I asked…”

“I don’t dream on command, you know! It just happens.”

“What’s the issue, then? I thought you’d already been having nightmares. Harte said so.”

“These are different. I—well, I don’t know how to describe it…”

“You can’t just leave us in suspense!” Julia interjects. “At least make an attempt. What was that first part, anyway? Dreams about your man leaving you?”

“He’s not my—well, the dream is unrelated, it was sort of … do you know Mr Welwick?”

“Human, groundskeeper of the park up the north path,” Queenie confirms. “What about him?”

“Bit old for you, isn’t he?” Julia teases. “Or do you like that~?”

“Um,” Alice chooses to ignore the ghost’s absurd remark. “He was in the dream. And he melted. Like a candle. That is—he melted when I asked him a question.”

“I see.” Queenie bridges her fingers, resting on the table. “And this question was?”

“Well, I’m—I’m scared to repeat it, but… I asked him the name of our world, because I didn’t know the answer.”

“Yes, I see…” Queenie nods seriously. “I see that you’ve completely lost your mind. Have you considered taking a vacation, Webbe?”

That was even blunter than she’d been expecting. Alice purses her lips. She should’ve known Queenie wouldn’t take her seriously, she never did.

Julia, however, offered some uncomfortable pity. “She’s all out of sorts because her boyfriend is leaving, and all her other options are damp squibs.” As impossible as it was for the table to support her form, she leant on it, resting her head on one hand. “You need a little confidence, dear, and you could have them all. If I could possess you for—”

“While I would not recommend living by my grandmother’s example, it might be true that your love life is causing you grief.”

“He’s not my boyfr—”

“Yes, I know. But your situation is a bit more complex than that, isn’t it? Me, Runey, Lucian, goodness—perhaps even Marianne, and who knows who else… and now Taylor, not taken, but leaving.”

“I don’t—”

“Nothing a threesome can’t solve,” Julia adds flippantly.

“I don’t need to be—this isn’t about my love life,” Alice finally gets out. “Or, well—I certainly don’t know how to feel about Taylor leaving, I’ll say that much!”

The two dragons wear a matching self-satisfied smirk.

Alice sighs heavily, understanding that was her cue to continue. “He’s going to follow his dreams, so I don’t want to stop him. I’m going to let him go. I mean, he said he’d stay in touch, and I’ve got Ivan if I ever want to visit, but…” She shakes her head. “I don’t want him to go, and I don’t want to force him to stay.”

“He’ll come back. With experience, too. You’re young yet.” Julia glides over to pat her on the back. It’s a cold and unpleasant feeling.

“Fickleness is one of your fatal flaws, isn’t it, Alice?” Queenie sips water from her teacup, sizing her up over the rim. “That and your crippling self-doubt. Have you actually talked to Mr Shirasaki about these feelings?”

“Sort of? I don’t want to kill his enthusiasm, and I don’t want him to think I’m asking him out—I don’t know if I feel that way! Choosing him almost like leftovers, that … it leaves a bad taste in my soul.”

“Quite the predicament. … Which is why you’re slowly going insane, hm?” There’d be no sympathy from Queenie. “Besides. You don’t have to ask him out to tell him he’ll be missed.”

Julia has her own advice to give. “Or you could ask him out. It’s not a forever-thing, you know, especially if he’s skipping town. I say you can change your mind as much as you like, Alice~”

The human makes a frustrated, grumbling sound. She’d wanted to talk about this, yes, but it wasn’t the only point of focus, especially after they’d glossed over her dream as the mad ramblings of a lovesick loser. She was going to have to get advice about that elsewhere.

A noise comes from inside the pram as Mandy stirs. Queenie’s attention switch is immediate, abandoning her cup. “Shh, did we wake you up?” She coos and fawns over her, distracting the baby with a corduroy cat doll nestled in the blankets.

Julia takes this opportunity to press an icy finger against the nape of Alice’s neck. “If you ever change your mind about being borrowed, I could really help you out. Just for a day or so...”

“N-no thanks. I’m good.” She wouldn’t trust anyone with an offer like that, least of all Julia.

“Oh well, your funeral~” Julia slips under the table, appearing at the other end to help with her great-granddaughter. With Mandy occupied, Queenie returns to her conversation with Alice.

“Are you sure you don’t want this scone? You look like you need it.”

I daren't ask again...

Queenie!! Wake up!!! Baby needs a snack!!