Fantasia

Fey sat with Sirena and Mimi in a conversational nook off the main ballroom, sipping a glass of sparkling apple juice. Given the constriction of her corset, the amount she could consume was quite limited, and she was saving room for only the most delicious treats.

 

Despite this limitation, Fey was thoroughly enjoying herself, chatting with her friends and people-watching.

More specifically, person watching. Sirena kept sending Leandriel (and Blade, but let’s face it, Fey doesn’t care) off on increasingly ridiculous fetch quests to find various delicacies, and Fey found it amusing enough that she did not intervene despite the (weak) protesting of her conscience. It was endlessly entertaining to watch the angel’s earnest and good-natured attempts to find or contrive foods that met Sirena’s random requirements.

 

Fey caught sight of the plate Leandriel was carrying and burst out laughing. Sirena had imperiously demanded to be brought ‘a unicorn’ and Leandriel appeared to have carefully constructed a four-legged creature out of cake and wafer rolls. A dab of icing formed the horn and the whole thing had been liberally doused in powdered sugar to make it blindingly white.

“A unicorn,” Leandriel announced with a grin and a flourish.

Sirena accepted the plate with the gravitas of a queen accepting her subject’s tribute. “Thank you, sir.” She proceeded to ruthlessly topple the four-legged confection and gouged a chunk of its body out with her fork.

Sirena’s eyes widened. “This is good!” she mumbled around the cake. (*terrible manners*) She held the plate out towards Fey.

Fey took her own bite (poor unicorn) and her eyes widened at the exquisite combination of texture and flavour. Corset be damned, she dug into the cake.

 

A small popping sound overhead had Fey looking up in time to see a small crater pock the ceiling, bits of plaster raining down to coat the area.

“The cake!” Fey exclaimed in dismay.

“My hair!” Sirena gasped in equal dismay. (*priorities*)

 

Mimi stood and scanned the room as more pops hit the ceiling (somehow entirely untouched by plaster dust). “There,” she indicated, looking towards the ballroom’s main entrance.

 

“Nobody move!” someone shouted, echoed by multiple voices accentuated by more popping sounds. Fey was able to spot the trajectory of magic bolts characteristic of mage guns found in Fantasia.

“Oooh,” she said in realization. “Is this a robbery?” Compared to the deafening gunfire of mechanical guns, magical ones were almost completely silent. In fact, only about half of the players had noticed the incursion at this point.

 

Completely ignoring the shouted commands, Sirena climbed her chair for a better look. “Maybe? I mean they have guns and seem to be attempting to make people put their jewelry into large sacks they brought.”

 

At first glance, the idea of robbing ball attendees was not entirely moronic. After all, this was one night where thousands of players were out of armour and away from their weapons. Many of them, like Fey, had even incurred stat penalties in their pursuit of the perfect outfit.

 

“I think I can take out the group at the front entrance,” Leandriel said, already Ex-quipped into his plate armour, sword unsheathed, “but there appear to be secondary groups at each side entrance.”

 

(At second glance, attempting to rob ball attendees was not only entirely moronic, but suicidal.)

 

“I can take another group,” Mimi said. She did not bother changing out of her dress, but Shifty in crossbow form was fully loaded in her hands. (Don’t ask where the bolt came from.)

 

Blade Ex-quipped into his armour, more for the comfort of getting out of his suit than because he thought he could be of any help in a situation that called for high attack power and fast kills. “I’ll protect – What are you two arguing about?”

 

Sirena and Fey were leaning towards each other in a heated, whispered argument. “Just do it!” Sirena exclaimed.

Fey rolled her eyes, looking both aggravated and embarrassed.

 

“What is it?” Leandriel asked.

“Sirena wants me to provide the distraction,” Fey said, unenthusiastic but growing resigned to her fate.

 

“Do not do anything that will put you in danger,” he said, concerned.

“Oh, it won’t be dangerous. I’ll just be exchanging personal dignity for ninety seconds of invincibility.”

“…Which ability is that?”

Fey sighed. “Ex-quip.” (See Chapter 49 if you don’t remember.)

“You have a ninety-second transformation sequence?” asked Blade. “I didn’t know it could get that long.”

“Ninety seconds is the maximum,” Fey stated mildly, making it clear she wished she did not have firsthand knowledge of that fact.

“Do it!” Sirena urged.

“Fiiine.” Fey sighed again. “Distraction in five, four, three, two, one.”

 

An electric guitar solo cut through the murmurs of the crowd, easily drowning out the small popping noises the robbers’ guns made. Fey slowly drifted high into the air as a featureless black silhouette, drawing heavy fire but completely unaffected by it.

A chime, and luminescent purple wings flashed into existence, brilliant against her still colourless form. She soared and twisted through the air in aerial acrobatics while an electric violin joined the guitar in an exciting duet full of countermelodies. The plaster dust clouding the air as the would-be looters shot en masse only enhanced the spectacle.

Fey’s hair and eyes appeared next, glowing the same purple as her wings. Her hair left glowing ribbons of light trailing after the ends as she swooped around the ballroom, making it look impossibly long.

The violin took over in a fast, ascending interlude as Fey’s armour materialized in a creeping wave up from her feet, bringing colour to her skin as the effect passed.

Fully armoured but not armed, Fey’s body went into a choreographed series of kicks and strikes as the guitar rejoined the music with a driving, aggressive melody, her kicking and punching blades appearing individually with a chime as she paused mid-strike with each of her limbs. Now armed, she let out a flurry of phantom Arc Slashes as the choreography continued, the blades of light flying out at increasing speed as her movements reached a pace that could only be achieved with Haste and the music swelled to match.

A blur of light and movement, Fey came to an abrupt stop with a final chiming sound, then began drifting slowly towards the ground as the music reached its conclusion.

 

***

 

Leandriel closed his mouth and realized that he had been entirely mesmerized by what was meant to be a distraction for his opponents. Looking towards his intended destination, he was relieved to see a crowd of armed players and no trace of the bandits. Doubtless, people more capable than him had dispatched the shooters rather than standing around, gaping.

Rather sheepishly, he returned from his disrupted attack as even more armed players poured in from portals, no doubt coming to the belated aid of their friends.

 

Fey was rubbing her shoulder and stretching her neck. “Sirena, non-anime people’s joints do not bend in those directions,” she complained.

“Oh, stop whining,” Sirena said cheerfully. “How much fame did you get from that?”

Fey’s eyes widened as she checked the number. “Holy [word], it’s over ten thousand.”

 

Blade whistled, impressed. “I hope we get some good quests with that.”

 

Mimi reappeared, wearing an uncharacteristically clear expression, that of smugness. Still in her ballgown, she carried three of the magic-powered guns the robbers had been carrying. “No player-killing penalty,” she reported. Her smile became a smirk.

Fey laughed and Ex-quipped (the fast, normal way) into her ballgown. Impressively, her styled hair was entirely unaffected by her whirlwind activities.

 

She suddenly stiffened, glance moving around the ballroom to the other players around them. Leandriel realized that dozens of people were making their purposeful way in Fey’s direction.

“Sirena, this is all your fault. Handle the people!” she hissed, backing up.

 

Leandriel reached out to steady Fey’s balance when she  bumped into him. Rather than stopping, Fey turned and slid behind him, burrowing into the space between his shoulder and wing. Confused, he half unfurled his wing to allow her to tuck herself in, effectively obscuring her from sight.

 

“If you’re looking for a choreographed transformation sequence, I designed that one!” Sirena called to the room. A crowd of players formed around her. Judging from the cheerful, calculating look on her face, she was planning on making a large profit from any commissions she received.

 

Amused, Leandriel turned his attention to the elf tucked under his wing. “They are not looking this way,” he murmured. “You can come out now.”

“I’ll stay here for a while, if that’s okay,” came Fey’s voice.

“You are welcome to, but… why?”

“I’m feeling pretty mortified right now. I’ll come out when it passes.”

“Why are you embarrassed?” Leandriel asked.

“Oh, come on. That transformation sequence was ridiculous.” He felt the slight vibration of her banging her forehead against his armour.

 

Leandriel still did not quite understand the reason for Fey’s embarrassment, but he was not about to complain about her current closeness.

“I am changing back to my formal attire,” he murmured. The action was not unusual, given that the majority of the ball attendees had already done so.

“Okay.”

A subtle shift of light, and it was done. He could feel Fey’s slight form against his back and wing, surprisingly still given the vivacious energy he normally sensed from her.

Half on instinct, he tightened his wing like an embracing arm. Fey made no reaction except to lean her weight against him.

 

Leandriel found himself smiling gently, content in a way he could not recall ever feeling before.

 

◊◊◊

 

Leander was still smiling over breakfast the next day.

 

“I take it your date with elf girl went well?” Lacey asked, plopping her tray down next to his.

 

Leander was not even surprised that Lacey had dragged herself out of bed hours before she normally awakened in order to enquire about his love life. “Yes. Thank you. However, I do believe we need to have a discussion about the ethical problems associated with using your access to Fantasia’s data to access information on individuals in a way that is completely unrelated to your work.”

“It wasn’t completely unrelated,” Lacey countered cheerfully. “I looked at hundreds of players’ gown designs so I could make my own designs. That search won’t be flagged at all.”

“Lacey…” Leander sighed, giving up on the rest of his lecture.

 

“Less about me. More about you and elf girl. This is her, right?” she asked, pulling up a video on her cell phone.

 

Leandriel found himself watching a replay of Fey’s transformation sequence. “…Has this gone viral?”

“Kind of? Only about thirty thousand views. The videos of the robbers getting massacred are way more popular.”

“Who even let them into the ball? There’s no way we failed to pick up that kind of plot beforehand.”

“Oh, they noticed it weeks ago,” Lacey said with an airy wave. “Didn’t think it was worth stopping. Just take off the player-killing penalties and let the attendees have some fun, am I right?”

 

The cell at Leander’s wrist pinged to show that Lacey had forwarded him the video.

She snorted at his questioning expression. “Don’t tell me you didn’t want it. Delete it right now if you’re not interested.”

 

Unable to think of a proper response, Leander quietly went back to eating.

“That’s right. Now, where’s my Christmas present?”

 

Leander chuckled. “In the large package delivery centre. Merry Christmas.”

 

“Seriously?” Lacey stood excitedly.

She paused before running out of the cafeteria. “By the way, elf girl registered for the New Year’s party, so good job.” News delivered, she zipped away.

 

Leander paused to digest the news. He had not been able to make himself bring up the subject of the cosplay party to occur in a week’s time. It just felt like a huge jump, going from spending time together in a game and meeting in real life, especially given the moderately expensive nature of the event. However, Fey had independently decided to attend.

 

Anticipation thrummed through him. A single week and he would be able to meet Fey in real life.

 

He stood. His costume had long been ready for the party,  but he felt the sudden need to check it over.