The sun, that cosmic meddler with a terrible sense of timing, was already seeping through the curtains, determined to wrench me from my well-deserved sleep. I opened my eyes with the disposition of a dark lord confronted with glitter. But the real alarm wasn't the light, nor the vague smell of something burning in the kitchen (likely the handiwork of some dorm-mate trying to boil water and accidentally creating a portal to another dimension). No. It was the heat. Human. Very close. And hugging me from behind like an octopus with abandonment issues and the grip of a wrestling champion.
It took me a few precious, increasingly embarrassing seconds to process. Me. Being hugged. From behind. In the humiliating position of 'little spoon'. Considering my 'maintain distance or face my ancestral wrath' policy, the situation was a code red for my dignity. And the 'big spoon', the source of the warmth and the breath on my neck? None other than Erza Scarlet. Titania-in-training. My irritatingly loyal best friend and, apparently, Olympic champion of 'night-time cuddling with invasion of personal space'. Marvellous.
My ancient mind tied itself in a knot. What, in the name of interdimensional cockroaches, had happened? Glimpses: a conversation, tears (hers, of course, my tear ducts have been on strike for centuries), a hug… which had evolved into this unsolicited spooning. Or, being painfully honest, with my sleepy consent. Damn it.
I was getting soft. It was Fairy Tail and its sticky atmosphere of 'family'. I was turning into a sentimental teenager. The horror. I needed a new planet. Urgently.
[Good morning, little spoon!] Eos's voice, subtle as a meteor. [Slept well? Record-breaking oxytocin levels. Fascinating. And slightly sickening.]
(Eos, if you don't go silent, I'll install you in a Tamagotchi,) I threatened, feeling my cheeks grow warm.
[Oh, but why such hostility? Admit it, it was… comforting. And speaking of comforting things, your hormones are having a party! If you need tips for the next step, my dorama database is at your disposal. The 'trip and fall into her arms' trope is a classic.]
(If you mention 'dorama' again, Eos, I'll use you as target practice for an antimatter cannon,) I snarled.
At that instant, I felt Erza's warm breath. Goosebumps. I tried to move away, but her embrace tightened. And then, she snuggled even closer, her… curves pressing against my back. My body, that traitor, reacted in an entirely inappropriate manner.
[Alert! Spontaneous engorgement and heightened sensitivity in the nether regions! Hormonal levels at peak! Fascinating! Is this the Beastman-Intersex combination in action? What a biochemical spectacle!]
(Eos! Stop narrating my bodily functions as if it were a pay-per-view event from some dodgy website!) If I could have, I would have turned the colour of Erza's hair from sheer embarrassment. (Why is this happening?! Not even in my worst, most hormonal teenage phases in other lives was I so… biologically inconvenient and betrayed by my own organism!)
[Well, let's just say your current genetic configuration is rather interesting, Azra'il. A veritable hormonal time-bomb with lupine instincts and a soft spot for redheads. It's no wonder young Titania's proximity is causing a few… short-circuits.]
Marvellous. I was an intersex, bestial hormonal bomb with a weakness for a redhead who was snoring softly in my ear. My life was the script of a cosmic slapstick comedy.
I needed to get out of there. With the grace of a ninja master in impossible escapes, and the help of a substitution technique learned in some past life particularly full of subterfuge (and clingy lovers), I swapped my body for the largest, fluffiest of my pillows. Erza grabbed it with a satisfied sigh, mumbling something incomprehensible about more strawberry cake. Poor pillow. It was in for an… intense morning.
[Impressive! The ancient and ever-effective 'Fluffy Pillow Kawarimi' technique! A timeless classic. Though I still think a direct approach of simply waking her and explaining the awkward situation would be more… amusing to observe,] Eos mocked, as always.
I solemnly ignored her. I went straight to the lavatory. I needed a cold bath. Very cold. And clothes. It was then that the true, humiliating horror settled into my ancient soul: I had forgotten my bloody clothes in the wardrobe. I, Azra'il Weiss, strategist of ages, manipulator of empires, defeated by the simple, mundane, entirely predictable need to get dressed after a bath. The irony was so thick you could choke on it.
[Well, well, Azra'il. What an unexpected, entirely predictable turn of events. Are you going to have to come out in a towel and put on a private show for the sleeping Titania? Or perhaps just a demonstration of your skill in running about the room half-naked? My recording sensors are ready and eager to capture every delicious, embarrassing detail for posterity. And for future blackmail, of course.]
(Inventory, you sadistic AI with a terrible sense of timing! I have emergency clothes in the inventory!) I grumbled mentally, as a light of hope (and vanity) lit up in my mind.
[Ah, yes! That vast, chaotic depository of yours for useless trinkets, weapons of mass destruction, and, of course, those custom outfits of yours. The ones you had the eccentric, talented Madam Esmeralda, the seamstress from Magnolia's dodgy back alleys, make. The ones that aren't your simple, functional everyday Wuxia training gear, but something a little more… elaborate. A little more… dramatic. For 'special occasions', wasn't it? Or perhaps to impress a certain redhead with a taste for princely figures?] Her teasing was relentless. And, unfortunately, a little too accurate.
(They were for high-level fashion emergencies! And to create a psychological impact on my enemies!) My face, I was sure, was now an interesting shade of scarlet that would probably make Erza's hair envious. (And it's in no way to impress Erza! I have, for your information, some old jogging bottoms and some plain, dull t-shirts in the inventory as well! If the 'emergency' were just the simple, mundane need to leave this lavatory without being completely, utterly naked, I could very well wear those!)
I lied outrageously to myself and, mainly, to the artificial intelligence that, unfortunately, probably had direct access to my most shameful thoughts, my hidden intentions, and my hormonal fluctuations. What cosmic humiliation.
With a resigned sigh of one preparing for a small but significant, possibly rather exaggerated, morning indulgence, and with the firm, unshakeable, perhaps slightly desperate determination to, at the very least, look absolutely, unquestionably stunning while I dealt with my growing internal embarrassment and a probable, inevitable barrage of curious questions and admiring glances from a certain stubborn redhead, I mentally accessed my vast, somewhat chaotic, but surprisingly well-organised (at least in the clothing section) private inventory.
With a swift, precise, now entirely habitual mental command, I ignored with almost palpable disdain and an elegantly arched mental eyebrow the tempting but utterly, completely inappropriate sections for the present occasion. I went straight, with the infallible precision of a GPS-guided cosmic missile and an impeccable sense of style, to the carefully catalogued subsection, named with a subtle touch of irony and self-indulgence, of 'Custom Vestments by Madam Esmeralda – Sophisticated Eastern Style with an Unmistakable Touch of Theatrical Drama and Ancestral Power – For Use in High-Level Fashion Emergencies, Urgent Need for Discreet and Effective Intimidation, Days of Particularly High Self-Esteem, and for Those Special Moments When One Simply Wants to Look Incredible, Untouchable, and Mildly Threatening'.
And there it was, shining with a subtle aura of pure, unquestionable elegance, exuding a faint, almost imperceptible, wonderfully exotic scent of ancient otherworldly silk and a silent promise of admiring glances, envious sighs, and, who knows, a few broken hearts (or, more likely, a few seriously intimidated individuals).
I chose, with almost reverent care, an anticipation that was almost childlike in its purity, and a satisfied smile that Eos would certainly detect and mercilessly mock later, one of my favourite, most iconic ensembles: a complete Wuxia-style attire, timeless, elegant, with an impeccable cut and an undeniable aura of quiet power, lethal grace, and a beauty that was at once ethereal, imposing, and utterly badass.
Inner tunic of night-blue silk, outer robe of sky-blue brocade with subtle silver dragons. Flowing sleeves, structured collar. Wide black leather belt with a jade-phoenix buckle. Details of light armour on the forearms and shoulders, engraved with protective seals. Tight, deep navy-blue trousers, with an opening for my proud tail, and silent black leather boots.
I looked at my reflection. White hair tied in a high ponytail with my jade and silver hairpin. I looked… magnificent. A warrior prince from an eastern legend, ready for adventures, to steal hearts, or, more likely, to cause trouble and look incredibly good while doing it. A satisfied smile – no, a triumphant smile – played on my lips. My wolf ears perked up in approval, and my tail swished once, elegantly.
Yes, Erza Scarlet would definitely notice. And that, in itself, was worth the effort. And the slight morning embarrassment.
I left the lavatory, feeling a dangerous combination of calm, cleanliness, and an impeccably inflated ego. And there was Erza, sitting up in my bed, rubbing her eyes, her hair a spectacular red, tangled mess. But when she saw me – in all my morning Wuxia glory, a vision of blue, silver, and a confidence bordering on divine arrogance – her brown, still-sleepy eye widened like saucers. Her small, pink mouth fell open in a silent 'o' of pure astonishment. And a delightful blush, the colour of her own hair, flooded her cheeks, rising to the tips of her ears. Mission 'cause a morning short-circuit in Titania' successfully accomplished.
I laughed internally, savouring the moment. "Good morning, sleeping beauty. Or should I say, my dear, efficient professional hugger of particularly lucky pillows?" I teased, with a smile that was a work of art in provocation and charm.
"Has Your Highness, the Queen of Soft Snores and Dreams of Strawberry Cake Mountains, finally decided to honour the world of the living with her rather… dishevelled presence? I was just on my way to the kitchen to prepare our breakfast and, more importantly, to save our stomachs from a possible culinary assault by our dorm-mates. It would be the perfect time for you to try and look minimally human yourself, don't you think?" I winked.
"And, of course," I continued, walking towards the door with the fluid elegance of a night river, "a fine excuse for us both, as ladies of impeccable decorum, to completely forget any… peculiar, entirely platonic, and sentimentally meaningless nocturnal events that did not happen. Understood, little redhead?" I left the room with a subtle flourish of my robe, leaving her behind, probably still agape, flushed, and with her brain trying to process what it had just seen. Ah, how rewarding it was to be me. Especially when it involved leaving Erza Scarlet speechless.