Fantasia

Leander’s wrist phone buzzed in a distinctive pattern that indicated a call from his manager. Surprised, he answered. “Hello? Is there an emergency?” In his department, there was rarely anything so urgent that it could not be communicated via email.

Lina Bosse’s face appeared on a holographic screen. “Hey Leander. Not an emergency, but I wanted to talk. I just got your request for a day off next week.”

The request was routine, permission granted on an almost automatic basis. Leander’s stomach sank. “Is there a problem?”

“Well,” Lina hedged, “not exactly, but I wanted to ask how urgent the request was. You don’t have a family emergency or something, do you?”

“…No.” While it certainly felt urgent to him, Leander doubted that going on a date constituted an emergency by anyone else’s standards.

Lina’s expression was apologetic. “It’s just that we’re way behind schedule on gathering flying data and a couple of our other testers are almost done their basic maneuvers. Next week will be intensive testing on group maneuvers and PvP.”

Leander’s fist clenched out of sight of the camera, but he controlled his expression. “I understand.”

Lina winced as if he had yelled. “I’m sorry, Leander! You haven’t asked for a day off, ever, either. You can take as much time as you want after this project is over!”

Despite his disappointment, he smiled. “Thank you, Lina. It is certainly not your fault we are behind schedule.”

“You’re the best! I’ll make sure you get that day next week paid as overtime.”

 

Ending the call, Leander continued his way to the cafeteria for breakfast, footsteps heavy. He grabbed random food selections and sat down to eat, mechanically chewing and swallowing without noticing the taste.

 

“Yo, Leander, why do you look like your dog died?” Lacey asked, sliding her tray onto the table across from him. Like him, she did part of her work in-game, and woke early as a result. In contrast, Kevin routinely stayed up all night and got up late in the afternoon.

“Not today, Lacey,” Leander muttered, in no mood for teasing.

“Hey, it was a serious question. Your elf girl turn you down or what?”

“No.” Fey had all but run away after accepting his date proposal, but she had said yes. And now he was going to be the one to cancel. He sighed and put down his fork, in no mood for food.

“Did you chicken out asking her, then?” Lacey prodded.

Realizing she was not going to leave the matter alone, Leander laid out the matter as concisely as he could. “I asked. She accepted. I cannot take the day off next week and will have to cancel like an unreliable cad[i].”

“No!” Lacey exclaimed. “You have like a year’s worth of vacation days you haven’t used! They can’t just not let you take a day off!”

“I am sure I could get it off if I insisted, but that would also make me a cad,” Leander answered morosely. “We are quite behind in data collection and some of the players are dangerously close to achieving their flying forms.”

“But it’s your dream girl! This is an emergency!”

 

Apparently, someone other than him did consider it an emergency, he thought wryly.

 

Food forgotten, Lacey leaned her head on her hand with a look of intense concentration. After a minute, her expression cleared. “I got it!” she exclaimed triumphantly.

“What?”

“Ask her to the Yule Ball! It’s in three weeks, so you’ll be done your project, and she’ll be so busy getting ready for it, she won’t notice you cancelled.”

Leander highly doubted the latter statement. “She is not a complete idiot, Lacey.”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m sure she’s a genius. Doesn’t matter. Even if you didn’t ask her to the ball, she and every other girl in the game are going to be overwhelming the tailors with custom gown requests as soon as the announcement comes out today.”

“I suppose rescheduling would be better than cancelling,” Leander mused, though he was still unconvinced that Fey would give much importance to a ball.

“Exactly. And a ball is right up your alley,” Lacey added.

“It is?”

“You know, put on a suit, stand around looking handsome, maybe dance a waltz or two,” Lacey said, waving her hand as if conducting in ¾ time[ii].

Leander’s lips twitched. “I believe I should feel insulted, being objectified like this,” he murmured, picking up his fork again. Somehow, the conversation was starting to make him feel that things would be all right.

Lacey’s eyes widened in exaggerated surprise. “You’re developing a sense of humour! This girl must be something special.”

 

“She is,” Leander agreed softly.

 

Lacey winced. “I’m going to get diabetes[iii] from how sweet that was. Tone it down.”

“Sorry.” Leander dug into his breakfast, which he found was actually a well-made omelette now that he could appreciate the taste.

“Maybe I’ll make a detour over to the Elvenwood to get a peek at her,” Lacey mused.

“Lacey.” There was a warning in the word.

She held her hands up in surrender. “Okay, okay. You’re still so uptight. At least invite her to the New Year’s cosplay party so I can see Her Specialness in person.”

Nerves collided with anticipation at the prospect of seeing Fey in real life. “When is that announcement coming out?”

“Same time today. They want to allow people lots of time to make travel arrangements.”

Leander took a breath, “One thing at a time,” he said, more to himself than Lacey.

“You got this,” Lacey encouraged with a thumbs-up. “Video call her and make sure you grovel properly if she’s mad.”

***

◊◊◊

 

Upon logging in to Fantasia and reading the announcement regarding the Yule Ball, Sirena had promptly dragged the entire party through the teleportation gate to (the ultra-uncreatively named) Capital City, capital of the human lands and the largest city in the known Fantasia world.

Despite the huge number of shops, there was not a single tailor establishment that did not have a huge line spilling out into the street. Fey was sitting on Boris in one such line, absentmindedly listening to Sirena chatter about fabrics and colours (and of course poisoning herself) when Leandriel’s request for video chat arrived.

 

Feeling a resurgence of the nerves that had gradually calmed down over the months she had known the angel, she accepted the call, initiating the privacy mode that prevented others from seeing and hearing the conversation.

 

Seeing a translucent shield go up around Fey, Sirena pounced, wrapping her arms around Fey’s shoulders. “It’s angel dude, isn’t it?” She waved at the air in front of Fey where the virtual screen would be. “Hi Leandriel!”

 

With the privacy screen activated, Leandriel could not see the people in Fey’s surroundings, so he only saw her shoving at an invisible opponent. “Fey? Is this a bad time?” He noted that she was even paler than usual. “Are you injured?”

 

“Nope,” Fey answered with a smile, holding Sirena at arm’s length with the ease of long practice. “I’m just training poison Immunity while we’re waiting in line at the tailor’s.” Now that the ability was at level 10, the only effect she noticed from being poisoned was a sense of weakness if her health dropped too low. “Everybody’s gone insane over the Yule Ball. What’s up?”

 

Leandriel seized the opening. “That is what I wanted to talk to you about. I am afraid I need to postpone our date next week, and I was wondering if you would do me the honour of allowing me to escort you to the Yule Ball instead.”

 

Fey blinked. Someone asking her to a dance was a new experience. Leandriel asking her to a ball was a surreal experience. “Yes,” she managed to say.

Leandriel looked relieved. “That is great to hear. I really must apologize for postponing, but I am unable to take time away from my duties next week.”

Mind still stunned, Fey answered on autopilot. “That’s okay. I’m sure you’re busy.” He probably had literal dragons to slay or something.

 

Leandriel winced as if she had levelled criticism at him. “I will make this up to you, I promise.”

 

Confused, Fey went over her words in her head, then saw it. “Leandriel,” she said solemnly, though a smile tugged at the corners of her lips, “I’m not mad, I promise.” Though she could do passive-aggressive with the best (worst?) of them, she reserved the treatment for her enemies. He was adorable without being the least bit childish.

Peering at her expression, Leandriel relaxed. “I do not deserve you,” he said, then blushed. “Not that I… I will talk to you later. Goodbye.”

“Bye!” she managed to get out before the angel ended the call. Sighing, she picked up the nearest gloom (Onyx) and hugged it like a stuffed animal. He is so irresistible when he’s being all awkward and cute.

 

Sirena re-pounced. “Spill it. What did he say?”

Seeing no reason to hide it, Fey said, “He invited me to the ball.”

Sirena’s excited squeal drew the attention of more than a few players waiting in the same line. “This is going to be a-ma-zing. I can just picture him in a tux. She feigned swooning, draping herself melodramatically over Boris’ shoulders.

“Hey,” Blade complained. “I’m right here.”

Sirena hopped up and hopped again to kiss Blade on the cheek. “Yes, yes, you’re quite the hunk.”

 

 

Eventually, the party got to the front of the line and into the shop. A harried-looking woman thrust a sample book into Fey’s hands before rushing off to take another player’s measurements.

Having already located a design she wanted online, Sirena dragged Blade off to the men’s side of the store, which was busy but not nearly as insane as the women’s side.

Fey flipped through the sample book’s pages while Mimi looked on beside her. There was a huge variety of styles to choose from, everything from modern gowns that would not look out of place at a real-world party, to huge ballgowns inspired by previous centuries’ aristocracy, to fantastical costumes that appeared to subtly defy the laws of physics.

“Hmm…” Fey murmured. “Any ideas?” she asked Mimi. All Fey knew was that she wanted something she would never wear in real life, and that she would look good in. Pretty much every single design qualified.

Mimi took over flipping through the pages, scanning and discarding possibilities with a decisive eye.

 

She stopped about three quarters of the way through and returned the book to Fey.

“Wow. Nice,” said Fey.

Sirena rushed over from the men’s side and snatched the book. “Good taste, Mimi,” she praised, looking at the design. She narrowed her eyes at Fey. “You’ll have to wear the corset without whining.”

Given that Fey liked to give herself literal breathing room as well as avoid squishing her internal organs, a corset[iv] certainly was not something she would wear in real life, but she thought she could put up with it for one night in game. “Fine.”

 

Sirena kidnapped a shop assistant to take their orders and their measurements, Mimi finding herself a gown with the same efficiency as she had chosen Fey’s. With a promise that they would have their clothing in time for the ball, the party was free to escape the shop and return to the Elvenwood.

 

***

 

“Hey,” Leandriel greeted his fellow beta tester, “Looking feathery.”

Falco grinned, the expression looking predatory on his now-hawkish features. ‘Travis’ in the real world, his regular avatar ‘Draco’ was a dragonborn he was tediously grinding up to level 400, where it would gain shapeshifting abilities, along with a complement of near-godly abilities that justified the impossibly high level restriction. Having multiple avatars was not possible for regular players in Fantasia, but testers could be granted permission on an individual basis. “Wait ‘til you see David,” the falcon beastkin said.

 

Now an angel named ‘Dariel’, the fellow tester flew in gracefully enough but stumbled on the landing, the bottom edge of his wings dragging on the ground. He swore. “Why are these stupid wings so damn big? It’s ridiculous.”

Angels were the only race that did not rely on magic or reduced weight to maintain flight. Their wings were therefore proportionately very large relative to their height. Leandriel had had months to get used to dealing with the appendages, but David was normally a wind elemental named Zephyr who had been swapped to an angel avatar for less than a week.

“Make sure you send the devs some stern feedback,” Leandriel said with a grin.

 

The final member of the group flew in and Leandriel stifled a sigh. Allia had apparently gained enough skill in the last few weeks to qualify for this group endeavour, though as a mage, she would mainly hang back rather than participate in the very complex team maneuvers the developers wanted them to try.

Given that she was normally in the AR department, neither Falco nor Dariel had ever met Allia before. They greeted her politely and introduced themselves. Leandriel was relieved to see that in the presence of others, Allia maintained a professional demeanour rather than immediately try to flirt with him.

 

“Ready?” he asked the team. “Let us start with the simplest maneuvers and work our way up. I will lead.” He sprang into the air and peeked behind him to assess the others. It appeared that Falco was at ease with his wings, executing a flawless vertical takeoff. Dariel was clumsy when taking off and landing, but in the air, the awkwardness caused by the size of his wingspan disappeared.

Allia… Leandriel was surprised to see that her takeoff was as smooth as Falco’s. Apparently, she really had gotten better in the intervening weeks.

 

He turned with a mental shrug. She would either keep up or she would not. Either way, he intended to have this project done in the next three weeks.

---

Footnotes:

[i] Cad: an ill-bred man, especially one who behaves in a dishonorable or irresponsible way toward women.

https://www.dictionary.com/browse/cad

[ii] ¾ time is Western notation for music with a stressed beat every three pulses, common to certain types of music such as waltzes. When being conducted, the pattern of movement is down-inwards-up, with the stressed beat on the down movement.

[iii] Diabetes mellitus is a disorder of insulin production/sensitivity in the cells resulting in hyperglycemia. Type 1 diabetes is the result of autoimmune destruction of beta pancreatic islet cells, causing an absolute deficiency in insulin, while Type 2 is a result of insulin resistance in peripheral cells.

[iv] Tightly laced corsets are known to restrict breathing and reduce circulation to the internal organs. Long-term effects include atrophy of the core muscles and resulting back pain and postural issues when not wearing one.