My Entry wrote:Laurel stops in his tracks as he pushes open his apartment door only to not be faced with the usual sight of an empty kitchen, but with several other Aeros crammed into the living space, which can hardly fit two of them on a good day. They sit around the dining room table, though “sit” seems too inaccurate of a word to describe the manners of perches Laurel spots-- someone leans back in a chair with their paws kicked up on another chair, leaving who is presumably their friend with nowhere to sit, so they stand awkwardly beside. Another Aero is, for some reason, on top of the table, one leg hanging off the edge and the other pulled underneath them. Their snake-like tail is curled around the chair which another Aero sits in. They seem to be the only Aero sitting somewhat normally.
At the head of the table stands a very familiar Aero, though, who Laurel immediately zeroes in on after taking a few moments to gawk. Several surprised pairs of eyes land on him as he pointedly clears his throat. America, with his paws braced on the table as he stares down at some sort of paper, looks up at Laurel, startled.
“Oh, hey,” He says, “You’re home early.”
“I sure am.” Laurel agrees tersely. He was expecting to get to relax when he got home, not… Whatever is happening here.
“Hi, everyone. I’m America’s roommate Laurel.” He introduces himself to the room begrudgingly.
“I’m Carne.” The aero leaning precariously back in his chair introduces, not so subtly and protectively wrapping their long tail around the Aero standing shyly beside them. “This is T.”
“Hi.” T says quietly, and avoids eye contact.
“Nice to meet you.” Laurel responds politely, a bit perturbed by the death stare he’s been getting from Carne, who Laurel can already tell is quite protective of T. Satisfied, Carne’s glare fades into sheer fondness towards T, whose fur he ruffles in pride.
The Aero literally on top of the table has to shimmy himself a bit to face Laurel, his back having previously been turned, his smile quite charismatically welcoming. “The name’s Finn,” He introduces himself, waving a pale green paw. “This here’s Moraghoma. They don’t speak-- you know sign by any chance?”
“I do, actually,” Laurel responds, and signs, “Hello, nice to meet you.” Moraghoma smiles and signs a quick ‘Hello’ back.
“You can call me Mora.” They add.
“Right, so we’ve all been introduced!” America pipes up, clapping his paws to grab everyone’s attention.
“So now you can explain why our apartment is bursting at the seams with guests without any warning?” Laurel interrupts, raising a brow. America wilts.
“You know I hate the Judging Eyebrow Quirk.” He pouts.
“That’s why I’m using it.” Laurel responds.
“Harsh.” Carne mutters not so quietly with a teasing smirk.
“Sorry, man,” Finn pipes up, “We didn’t even know ‘Merica had a roommate, he just invited us all over.”
“Most of us have never even met till now.” Mora adds. “I mean, Finn and I are good friends, but I’d never met anyone else here till today, save for America.”
“The same here…” T adds softly, looking around nervously, “Um, I came here with Carne.
“Which brings me to my explanation.” America intercepts. “Come sit with me, I’ll show you what we’ve been discussing.” Laurel pads over to America’s side, pulling up a chair to sit in properly, peering over the table to take a look at the papers America had been poring over earlier. Even so, they’re basically incomprehensible… He spots a crudely drawn picture of what seems to be the Well, though it also resembles a strangely shaped rock, or maybe even a bird. Some hastily scrawled notes in America’s chicken-scrawl handwriting, some bullet points that look to have been written from different angles, presumably from around the table, none of which make sense.
“See, my good friend, all of us gathered here today share a common goal.” America presents, sweeping a paw around to encompass the aeros gathered around them, “We want the freedom to drink from the well as we wish--”
“But we can already do that.” Laurel interrupts, perplexed, “Sylvia doesn’t care what we do as long as it’s not during--” He stops himself, realizing America’s double-sided words.
“Wishing hours.” America finishes. “We want to drink the magic water.” There are several nods in agreement from around the table. Conflicted, Laurel stares back at America, meeting his confident gaze.
“Sylvia’s the only one who can activate the magic, though.” Laurel points out.
“We’ve got that covered.” Finn pipes up with an amused laugh. He points to one paper a bit off to the side, which seems to have a slightly better drawing of a house and some detailed notes. Laurel picks it up from the table and skims it, his brows furrowing at what he reads.
‘Sylvia’s Routine’, it’s titled, and contains several alarming details about her schedule on both Wishing days and her off days, including when she sleeps, when she eats, where she goes, and more. Furthermore, it has several half-finished thoughts about whether these times would be good times to ambush her, and Laurel finally connects the dots.
“You’re going to kidnap her??” Laurel exclaims, and is immediately shushed by the surrounding Aeros, who all glance around in alarmed suspicion as if someone will jump out of the walls and discover their nefarious plans. America rolls his eyes.
“Yes and no,” He says, “We’re just gonna… ‘Lightly convince’ her to use her magic on the Well so we can get a taste. And then maybe ‘come to an agreement’ on when she’ll return to use her magic again when we want more. We’re also gonna take over the Well itself. I mean, we’ll still let everyone else Wish and whatever, but we’ll just be controlling who does and when they do.”
“Couldn’t we just ask Sylvia to magic-ify some well water for us and leave it at that?” Laurel asks meekly, feeling a bit outnumbered.
“Sure we could,” America responds, “But that’s not just the point, is it?” He stares down for a moment at what Laurel now realizes are detailed plans to take over the Well and kidnap Sylvia, looking quite grave. “ It’s about making a statement.” Laurel gulps. America turns towards him, stepping into his space, which Laurel nervously takes a half-step back at before stopping himself.
“You understand, don’t you?” America asks intently. Laurel stares up at America, who meets their gaze head on, uncharacteristically intense. America leans down, almost nose to nose with them now.
“Are you with us, Laurel?”
Laurel knows there’s a right answer.
“I’m with you.” He states as firmly as he can, not breaking eye contact with his newly changed friend. Around the table, five pairs of hungry eyes gleam.
“Good.”
--
See, Laurel is definitely a well water enthusiast. There’s no mistaking that. But all of this? Taking over the Well, stalking and kidnapping Sylvia-- it’s too much. So, when the moon is high in the sky and everyone has dispersed and gone to bed, Laurel slips out the door silently, intent on enacting his own plan. He hates to hurt his friend like this, but… He can’t just defer to America any longer. He can’t just stand by and let it happen.
Unbeknownst to him, betrayed blue eyes watch from the window as he leaves.
--
“Sylvia!” Laurel hisses as he bangs a paw on her door urgently, glancing behind him nervously, “Sylvia, wake up!!”
The door is yanked open moments later by a very displeased looking Sylvia, her fur sleep-rustled and her eyes squinting at the brightness from the lantern he carries.
“Why in Aronia are you banging on my door this late at night?” She snaps.
“America and a bunch of other aeros are planning to take over the Well and kidnap you!” Laurel exclaims, wide-eyed. She seems at a loss as she digests his words, so he continues in a panicked ramble, “I’m sorry I woke you up, really, but it’s really that urgent. They’ve got plans and everything.”
“Plans? America never plans.This really is bad.” Sylvia gasps. “Let me get my things. We’ll head to the Well right away.” Laurel nods resolutely. He keeps guard at the door, wincing at the sound of several things crashing to the ground. It’s only a few minutes later when she emerges, her hat crooked on her head but her bags full. She carries a strange staff with her, which she tosses to Laurel. He fumbles a bit but catches it, looking her way questioningly.
“Let’s go, I’ll explain on the way.” She orders tersely. Laurel follows her as they run towards the well, bounding over rocks and rough terrain, cutting through the forest instead of taking the path around. As she speaks, he focuses on keeping the forest ahead lit with his lantern as best as he can. “That staff holds a gem which allows the user to channel their magic far easier than they would be able to on their own.” She explains. “I’ve called for backup, but they may not arrive on time. I’ll be counting on you to help me defend as best as you can.”
“Me?!” Laurel exclaims, almost tripping over his paws. Sylvia nods.
“Just trust your instincts. I think you’ll find it’s easier than you imagine.”
Within moments they arrive at the Well, skidding to a stop as they find it’s already occupied. To Laurel’s surprise, however, only America stands at the ready. Laurel wonders if the others couldn’t arrive on time… or if they refused.
“Stand down!” Sylvia orders sharply. She plants her paws in the dirt firmly, her wisps glowing with magic. Even so, it stutters and flickers, seemingly weak.
“I know your magic is burnt out, Sylvia.” America says instead. “It’s the night after the Well’s closed. You spent all weekend granting wishes. All you’ve got are party tricks.” Sylvia’s eyebrow twitches, but she doesn’t back down.
“I can still beat you.” She denies, but the truth is obvious. Laurel stares down at the gem staff in his paws, conflicted. Can he stand up to America? Is he strong enough? Doubts flood his mind the longer the stand-off goes on. Neither aero moves, waiting for the other to act. Sylvia and her refusal to admit her weakness-- America and his confidence in not needing to lift a finger. And then there’s Laurel-- quiet, unassuming Laurel. At his side, Sylvia turns to him with a pleading gaze.
“Please, Laurel. I know you can do this. I’ll support you however I can-- but your magic is going to be much, much stronger than mine.” Laurel looks from her to America. One encouraging gaze, one cold and challenging. In the gem of the staff, the light from his lantern reflects, flickering softly.
“I can do this.” He says, resolute, and turns to America. “This is your last chance-- stand down!”
“To you?” America laughs, “Never.”
Laurel, suddenly incensed with indignation, clutches the staff closer. The staff lights up a brilliant purple, the vines glowing ethereal green as his magic channels through it. It’s a rush, using magic, and he can’t help but grin as he finds his footing. The ground rumbles, trembling under their paws, and glowing water rushes up from the well and forms a protective figure above Laurel and Sylvia, prepared to fight if it must. Sylvia laughs, her face illuminated by the glow of magic as she stares up at the construct, impressed.
“Stand. Down.” Laurel orders. Wide-eyed, hurt, and betrayed, America takes but a second to make his choice.
“This isn’t over.” He promises, turns tail, and flees. Only when he’s long gone does Laurel return the water to the well, his legs suddenly weak beneath him, sending him to the ground in sudden exhaustion. Sylvia gently takes the staff from his grip.
“Well done,” She says. As reinforcements flood into the clearing, she hesitates for a moment before softly adding, “Thanks for looking out for me.”
Laurel smiles, opens his mouth to respond, and promptly passes out. Magical exhaustion at it’s finest.
Callisto
