Mirea. The Mechanical City of Ean, Present Day

☆

To every young lady desiring to adhere to a set schedule, nothing threw a wrench in the plans like an idiot cousin's inability to decide which hair ribbon best accentuated his features.

Especially when there was nothing 'best' about the features in question. Sharp cheekbones could be found in any sprawling metropolis or quaint mountain village in Mirea. The same could be said of a hard, square jaw, a crooked but charming smile, and long eyelashes.

No, if you'd asked fifteen, soon-to-be sixteen Abbernathy Tells to describe her cousin's features she'd say they were normal, adequate. A mouth, two eyes and a nose. Yes, just what you needed to see, breathe and speak. Certainly, they were nothing to fuss over.

But it was these very normal features and their owner's indecision making her late, now, on today of all days, the morning of the Memorial.

"It's a shame, love," Lucy said, defeated. A blue ribbon dangled in front of his milk-white throat. He paused, shook his head, and knitted his brows, holding up a red ribbon in his other hand. "Both seem to suit me magnificently."

Abby thought either looked fine. Admittedly, she lacked a discerning eye for fashion though she knew enough to recognize Lucy's unyielding love of brocade breeches and gold macrame tunics as the epitome of unfashionable fashion sense as presented on this side of the country.

"No. No," Lucy shook his head, mulling over the ribbons, "this simply won't do. It seems I'm suited to wearing all colors magnificently." His shoulders slumped. "What a curse it is to be so immaculate a human specimen. Whatever will I do?"

"Just pick one," she spat threw gritted teeth.

Lucy cocked his head, blond hair falling in front of his eyes. Though half-hidden, she caught the mischief  in his gaze. "Love, it's never that simple. A great deal of consideration must be taken if I'm to present my perfection to the world."

Her eye, free of her will, twitched. One sole of her ivory boot thumped against the rickety floorboards, rousing a cloud of dust to unfold around her ankle and stain her trousers. She stiffened. Her last pair of clean pants, ruined. Aside from trying to get Lucy ready and out the door on time, laundry was her least favorite thing in the world to do.

"You haven't a clue, do you?" he said, raising both ribbons to either side of his face, "Women will be expecting the Lucy of last year's excursion to be upon their doorsteps this year. Do you know how many of them will lament my return if I don't live up to their expectations?"

"Not a one," she mumbled. Then flinging her arms across her chest and noticing the red creases cut into her palm from clutching the door knob too tightly, added, "Besides, the more you stand out, the easier you'll be to find. You're nothing if not a target for the angry parents of the girls you leave spurned in your wake."

He did a spin in the mirror, hair like spun silk haloing his head. "When you're this good-looking," he bowed, hands spread out like a magician performing a trick or a merchant hocking their lies, "danger is but part of life."

Abby rolled her eyes and silence returned once again to the small cottage on the western slopes of Ean city. But it was not to last, as Lucy never liked silence. He always squirmed at its arrival and stiffened at its prolonged stay. Silence had always been an unwelcomed visitor, though Abby, who'd grown accustomed to Lucy's love-spurned visitors stampeding through her flower shop's door well before sun up, much preferred quiet to chaos. 

"Loooove," Lucy whined, stamping his foot. He thrust the ribbons at her. "I can't decide. Which makes me look my best?"

"Either of them will do." 

He harrumphed and returned his gaze to the mirror. 

She shrugged and peered outside. A cavalcade of AI operated cars scurried by on metal cables, ferrying the citizens of Ean toward the manufacturing districts of the north.

Then a small glint of green jutting up from a corner flower box caught her attention. In it, Abby's most recent crop of Wyrweeds, a plant found in the desert regions of the south, were struggling to survive the city's smog and lack of sunshine.

But the stringy plants held on, despite the inhospitable living conditions, each one reaching for the sky and what lie beyond. She had an inkling her plants knew, just like she did, how overrated the ground was.

"Love?"

Abby whirled away from the window. "Hm?" She paused and glanced at his hands, "have you decided on a hair ribbon?"

Lucy slumped his shoulders, his mouth twisting into a frown. "You weren't listening, were you?"

"You were prattling."

He chuckled and cast her a sideway, all-knowing glance. "Love." His golden eyes sparkled, his voice stripped of its jovial quality. Sweetly, his tone uncharacteristically sincere, he asked, "Red or blue? You were always best at deciding which ribbons suited me."

Against her better judgment, and refusing to heed the vehement protests from her anger to stay angered, Abby swallowed her annoyance and strode toward him. She never could ignore an animal in distress.

Leaning in, hand on her chin, she set to examining each ribbon. The blue one, made of high quality Triadian silk. The red made of cotton grown in Meadrow, a town in the fertile crescent to the west of Ean. She dragged each between her forefinger and thumb, the soft textures reminding her of Crum's velveteen curls.

After mulling over the situation, all to increase Lucy's anticipation, and keep that rogue bead of sweat running down the side of his face, she got on her tiptoes, leaned in, and inches from Lucy, pinched his nose.

He started. "Ouch!" Grimacing, he cupped his nose, face flush. "That hurt."

She chuckled. "You'll look good no matter what you choose. A piece of fabric could hardly spoil your handsomeness."

Lucy blinked, stared at his ribbon options, then broke out into a smile of his own, the pain he'd complained about seconds ago having vanished from all thought. 

With a bounce in his step, he sidled up beside Abby and pulled her into a hug, a faint scent of soap wafting off his skin. "You're right. Either will only serve to enhance the beauty I already possess." He raked his fingers through the ends of her hair, before working his way up to her ribbon – an all-black one, with two crescent moons on either end. "I think I'll wear black today."

After letting her go, Lucy made for the ribbon box perched on a scuffed side table next to the mirror. It took him a moment, rifling through the contents, flinging aside all Abby's ribbons with reckless abandon, before he found what he'd been searching for - a simple ribbon, in matte all-black. He turned to face her as he gathered his long, flaxen locks and secured them at the base of his neck. "Now we match," he said, beaming.

Unconsciously, Abby reached up and touched what was still one of her most precious possessions. Not all the anger in Mirea could keep the smile she felt curling her lips at bay. "Just like before," she added, memories of the past resurfacing in her mind.

Of Lucy as the black cat she loved so dearly, a dozen ribbons trailing down his tail as he followed her everywhere. Sleeping together, playing in the grove together, sneaking milk from the larder together. He'd never left her side then, just as he hadn't left her side in the three years since losing her father and bringing order to Aelurus.

"Ready to go?" Lucy said, opening the front door. A rush of air, scented with coal and machine grease, flooded the room. He turned to face her, hand outstretched.

She nodded. "Let's go say hi to everyone." Putting her hand in his, they left the flower shop, bound for the Port City of Laos.

☆

The familiar green sea of the Fragilli stretched out before her like an emerald, radiant in the morning sun. Abby barely had a moment to take it in though before the rest of the city hit her like a bullet tram at full-speed.

AI operated carriages whirred as they trundled down busy streets. Older model caravans creaked, their wooden wheels rickety on Laos' uneven, cobblestone roads. Meats sizzled over fire pits, inkers, frantically trying to appease their customers, dragging their needles across flesh at furious speeds.

Merchants, hocking their wares, strained their vocal chords as they took part in an unspoken screaming tournament to see who could scrounge up the most business. Endless laughter spilled from the lips of ruddy, sun-scorched faces, happy and thriving amid the heat and humidity. Laos, the city of Chaos, came alive the moment Abby stepped off the tram. 

"It's been awhile," she whispered while reaching a hand up to shield herself from the sun.

Lucy stepped down behind her, already wilted from the heat, his forehead a glistening mess of sweat. He wrinkled his brow. "Ugh," he said, tugging on the collar of his tunic. "Couldn't the sun be more considerate? Why its so harsh, it'll blister my complexion."

"Oh?" Abby raised her brows. "And here I thought such a fine complexion would be immune to blistering and blemishes of any kind."

Lucy's lips parted into a smile as he draped an arm over Abby's shoulders. "It's a secret only a select few know." He pressed a finger to his lips. "Now don't go telling everyone, understood?" Turning, his face morphed into a frown, his hand slipping off her shoulder. He grew visibly annoyed, straightening like an arrow. "Oh goodie, he's here already..."

Abby, a full handspan shorter, couldn't make out anyone through the throng of busy Laosians. Even on her tiptoes, she just saw a sea of bobbing heads and baskets, filled to the brim with exotic fruits and fabrics, being ferried toward Mandarren Square.

Lucy must have noticed her confusion because he grabbed her shoulders and angled her toward Laos' main road. A gap in the crowd allowed her to see of whom Lucy had spoken about.

Hair as black as storm clouds and as fluffy as cotton candy caught her gaze immediately.

And unlike other Laosians, who slouched as they walked and wore sheared hide skin vests and leggings, and had no problem showing off naked legs and ample chests, the boy striding toward them was tall and proper, dressed in both a jacket and tunic, trousers pressed, shoes polished.

He was frowning, as was his natural state of being, his face pointed and pale, his eyes a deep, moody blue.

"Crum!" Abby yelled, and then feeling it an inadequate way to secure his attention, added a jump, and a wave of her arms.

Crum shook his head, frown decidedly worsening. "I can see you, you know," he said, hands in his pockets, his face, much to Lucy's chagrin, sweat-free.

He stopped before them, making quick work of the prescribed pleasantries required. "Lucy." Crum addressed him first, his voice flat, robotic.

Lucy was equally unenthused, his response just as appallingly lackluster. "Hudginns."

Abby dug her elbow into Lucy's side. "Be nice," she mouthed.

Lucy snarled and whirled away from her.

"It's good to see you again." As soon as the words left Abby's mouth, she frowned.

Crum's face twisted. "Wh-what's wrong now?" Ever-so-slightly the tips of his ears turned red.

She eyed him from his toes to the top of his head. "You've grown." Jutting her chin, she added, "Again. What I'd tell you about that?"

"To stop?" Abby nodded. Crum chuckled, and, as Abby herself had done countless time with Lucy, he patted her head, mindful of her ribbon. "But growing's not something I can control."

"Well try to. At least until I can catch up."

Crum's expression strained, but Abby appreciated the way he slouched a bit more, so he wasn't as towering. "That's not--"

"Good morn, Miss Tells!"

Crum's arm flew into the air as he whirled away from Lucy with such fervor, he created his own wind. "Dad!"

Abby turned, too, toward the man that had emerged from the nearby confection shop.

Alfren Hidginns was an older man, with graying hair and wrinkled skin, but he was jovial and chipper, smiling while walking toward them, a bounce in his step. He held a stripped paper bundle in his arms, that Abby recognized as a bouquet of Mirthea the closer he got.

She smacked her forehead as he stopped before her. "I forgot the flowers."

Alfren placed his free hand on her shoulder, his warmth easing her embarrassment. "You're here. And that's what matters." He flashed her a smile and then outstretched a hand Lucy's way which Lucy took excitedly. "Good to see you again, lad."

A bit of crimson shaded Lucy's cheeks as he returned the heartfelt greeting with a simple smile and nod.

"I should have remembered, though," Abby continued. "I own a flower shop for gods' sakes."

"Yeah, but you've never been good at your job, love," said Lucy.

Glowering, she dug her elbow into Lucy's ribs, harder this time. While there was the stink of truth in his words, he didn't have to say it out loud. Lucy yelped, hands pressed into his side.

Alfren chuckled, then offered Abby a smaller bundle he'd produced from his pockets. She took it, undid the twine and tore the paper. Several caramel twists stared back at her.

"For the trip home," he said. "Sugar always helps to re-energize us when are batteries are running low."

Crum shook his head. "Dad, not everything has to be put in mechanical terms."

Alfren turned, gave his son a once over and broke into laughter. Abby, Lucy and Crum exchanged curious glances.

"For a second there," the eldest Hudginns said between fits, "I thought Culpepper was standing before me."

Crum's gaze immediately shot to Abby. She nodded at him, trying to convey, without saying so, that it was okay. That she was okay. Crum seemed to realize this and relaxed.

"You're about his height," Alfren continued, clamping a meaty hand over his son's shoulder. "Grow up to be like him. Be a good man, son." A sea of red crested over Crum's cheeks as he took a sudden interest in the ground.

"And you, Miss Tells." Alfren turned toward her. "You have your mother's light."

Abby did the only thing she had the strength to do - she nodded, while every other part of her fought back the tears. Alfren's words were a kindness, one she didn't want to repay with sadness. Like she had all year, she'd bottle her feelings until the memorial. 

A warmth wrapped around Abby's hand, pulling her out of her head. She started as Lucy interwove his fingers with hers. Realizing he had an audience, he gave Abby his biggest grin, one running from ear to ear, and that had, according to him, once caused three girls to faint.

Under the right lighting, and the right circumstance, Abby could understand why a girl might succumb to this one simple gesture. And, in her case, and maybe her case alone, she knew Lucy's tender smile was one-hundred percent genuine.

"It's about time we head over." He gave her a gentle nudge.

She nodded, her voice barely a whisper as she said, "Yeah. You're right."

"By gods!"

They all turned. Alfren was stabbing a finger at the face of his pocket watch, expression grim. Even his wrinkles got the message, tensing so much they nearly smoothed themselves into oblivion. "That red-headed child is going to be furious."

Abby gulped, her fingers wrapping around her shirt. She squeezed.

Alfren was right. She would be mad. Explosive even and they'd all get caught in the blast, save for—

Crum met her gaze, and, as though responding to her thoughts, shook his head. "No." She took a step forward. He took one back. "No, Abs. Don't you dare think for a second I'll let you offer me up like some sacrifice."

"But she likes you."

Crum's face reddened, ears included. "That's not, that's not--"

"Come now," Abby swatted the air, "she says it herself all the time. So," she grabbed his jacket sleeve and tugged, "be our sacrificial offering, pretty please?"

Crum snorted, running a hand through his hair. "Don't bat your eyelashes at me, it's weird." Reaching down, he peeled her fingers, one at a time, off his jacket. Then, after his face floated between varying expressions of discomfort, Crum slid his hand over hers, interlocking their fingers together.

As Alfren would say, Abby's programming malfunctioned. She swung her head back and forth like a cobra charmed. She opened and closed her mouth like a dying fish. Her eyes fluttered as though being continuously barraged by a sandstorm. "Wh-wh-wh—"

"Come on." Crum gave her a tug. "You want to see the others and pay your respects, right?"

She nodded, all her thoughts, the ones concerning her hand in Crum's and how gentle and warm his touch was, gone.

Lucy grumbled something Abby couldn't quite hear, though she was certain it was a complaint.

Without Abby fully understanding the situation, the four of them headed toward the docks, her hands held, for the first time, by both Lucy and Crum.