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“Two pairs in one day, is that a record?” she teases.
“No, definitely not. I think the record is four. I can’t wear the pair I had on this morning becausesomeonegot them soaked.”
“Yousoaked them; I just helped,” she says with a smirk.
“Anyways. We need lunch and to run a couple of errands.”
“Sure thing. What do you need?”
I start counting on one finger. “Groceries, purple shampoo, new parents.”
“Can’t help you with the last one. Let’s grab a bite, get your shampoo, and hit up groceries last. If I go grocery shopping on an empty stomach, I’ll buy everything in the store.”
“I feel that.”
V’s smile is addictive, and I savor her toothy grin. I put on a pair of black leggings, and a black peplum top with wide flared sleeves. Vega is wearing beige cargo pants and a brown sweatshirt with the Augury University logo on it. The embroidered AU is gold, with a dainty golden wreath wrapped around it in a circle. Underneath the AU, are two hands performing magic. It’s beautiful, really, I can’t think of another University with a cooler logo, but it’s a bit on the nose? We’re supposed to be hiding that we work there, not making it more obvious.
“Should you change?” I suggest, unsure of how she’ll react.
“Meh. Alumni wear this kind of stuff all the time, plus my hair will be up. Nobody is going to think either of us are professors, we’re a bit young,” she says with utter certainty.
I wish I could live in her head. Curl up next to that pretty brain of hers and cease to feel the anxiety that spirals within my own.
I forget that we’re young. I mean, I know I’m young, but Vega is also only twenty-eight. Alitha is twenty-nine, and I believe Malik is in his late twenties as well. Many of the other professors are in their thirties and forties, but some are literally hundreds of years old. We’re infants in comparison. My sister’s accomplishments made my job at Augury University look frivolous, but I have to remember how amazing this opportunity is and that I cannot fuck it up. I will not get fired because of my unbridled lust for my boss. This week will get her out of my head for good. This is just an itch I have to scratch.
Kissing Momiji on the head, we turn on the TV. The white, fluffy sugar rabbit has his wings wrapped around Freja, who stares intently at the screen. I didn’t know hummingmouse were such big fans of reality TV, but I guess if you’re going to watch trashy television, Magically Mine is where it's at.
Hopping into the car, we drive towards the center of Octopus Island. The Isles of Magia are all unique in their own ways. Magia Island is full of magic, and the people there are one with nature. We didn’t destroy jungles to make our buildings, we built them in the trees, or on open planes. Naiad Island has its own vibe as well, comprised of merfolk cultures from all over the galaxy. Sleeping Island is a quieter place, and a more tight-knit community. They’ve dedicated a lot of resources into archiving and preserving humanities’ culture from before The Convergence. Octopus Island is the odd man out. The name derives from the creatures that lurk in waters around it, but the island itself is anything but friendly to nature. On Turtle Island, in The Americas, there is a region in the west known as the Valleys of Silicon. It’s a hyper-technological space. Octopus Island is similar, utilizing more technology than magic.
After The Convergence, humanity had to rebuild. Most of our ancestors banded together with the magical races, combining nature with magic, magic with science, and science with technology to forge a new world. There’s a balance we’ve carefully struck, but some pockets of the globe have decided other methods were better. They allowed technology to take over. I think it’s one of the ways that humans, the ones without magic, feel in control. Either way, there’s a lot of debate in the political sphere on how much of that technology is safe, but ultimately we cannot govern communities that are not our own.
I watch Vega as we drive to the main city, her brows remaining furrowed the entire time. She’s seeing it too—seeing what I hate about this place. How clear it is that they cut down trees and manipulated the Earth to create this place.
Though I was raised on Octopus Island, I spent my entire life dreaming of anything else. It felt… uncomfortable. There’s something about feeling the grass against my feet that is so natural and grounding, and Octopus Island is nearly void of that. There is grass, sure, but it is perfectly contained in little suburbs.
As we drive past pristine house after pristine house, the anxious feeling in my gut heightens. I am being reminded of how much I hate it here—reminded of how much Magia Island has become my home. I’ve been living there for eight years now, ever since I was accepted to Augury University after I graduated high school early. I thank my lucky stars for Augury, for it has become my home.
We park the car on a side chute of Main Street, and I hop out of the car. Tapping my phone against the meter, I pay the four dabloons it costs to park for the day.
Vega looks at me with a peculiar expression. “It costs money to park here?”
I shrug. “Yep. This place sucks, dude.”
“Okay, okay. Take a deep breath,” she says, and so I do, letting out a deep sigh. “I know you hate it here and you want to be miserable and for me to commiserate with you, but I don’t want to. You invited me to come out with you. Let’s treat this like we’re random tourists. Ignore all the capitalist-technological-hellscape parts of this island, and let's just enjoy the holiday and each other’s company.”
“I’m sorry. You’re right,” I say.
“It’s okay. You have bad memories from this place, and it isn’t as magic-friendly as you’d prefer. I get it, I really do, but let’s make the best of it. Focus on the good stuff, like the fact that they’re decorating this place for all the winter holidays,” she says, taking my hand in hers.
We walk down the busy street, and it reminds me of why I love this season. There are people putting up Christmas lights, wreaths for Winter Solstice, and light fixtures shaped into the Star of David. As we pass a family, I see a poster in a woman’s arms that reads “POETRY READING FOR YALDA NIGHT.” So many cultures, so many planets, and yet nearly all people have their own way of celebrating winter.
We walk towards a hair supply store.. Vega goes to open the door, when a small crowd of people come marching towards us holding pamphlets.
Are they all… religious? Is this a cult? Some type of spell? I honestly have no idea what is going on, but they’re all wearing funny outfits that remind me of old movies.
Vega’s eyes widen, and her eyebrows scrunch like she’s just deciphered what’s going on. “They’re Christmas Carolers… in November.”
The party of people, mostly human but a few cambion, elves, and hybrids take in a collective breath.
