Chapter 59: Poach

Prytaneum

Poach​

Unlike me, Ryuu seemed to know what she was doing—in this situation and just in general—and she guided me back through the labyrinthine streets with ease. It would have been simpler to just have Mrs. O'Leary shadow travel us out, but also insensitive as all hell, so instead I sent her home, so she could mourn Daedalus however she chose, without me interrupting with my varied assortment of problems.

Honestly…I wanted to just sit down and mourn, too—but I didn't. I couldn't, really, not a this point; if I tried to mourn everything I'd lost, I wasn't sure when I'd stop, so instead, I just didn't stop. I couldn't afford to breakdown right now, to let myself be persuaded by such meager things as facts and reality, so I took a deep breath and kept on moving like nothing was wrong. Healthy? Maybe not. But you know what else isn't healthy? Pretty everything I've done in my entire life. I've already accepted that I'm pretty much just a single, gigantic problem waiting to collapse in upon itself in a huge mess, but what was I supposed to do? Fix it? I never really fix anything; that was problem forty-three.

But, I thought, sounding strained even inside my own mind. It had been a lot easier when I could just go into the Dungeon. I was probably just making things worse there, too, but I was making them worse in a way that was very distracting. When the entire day consisted of nothing but hard, endless labor, it was easy to fall into a rhythm and just never stop moving. In the heat of battle, it was easier to put things aside, if still difficult at times—my…life had become messy enough at this point that ignoring everything wrong with it took actual effort. Being confronted with them like this…

Was it wrong that I wanted to run towards the Dungeon? To abandon everything for away, break my word, and throw myself to the usually proverbial and occasionally literal wolves? To run towards danger, even knowing I wasn't fixing anything and was probably just making them worse? That I was, in all truth, less afraid of facing death and danger then my own problems? When I'd first thought of staying out of the Dungeon for a while, I hadn't thought it would be this hard, but apparently it was my monster-spawning safety blanket.

Maybe I should get a hobby, I thought. Something I could pursue when I wasn't doing things that were bad for me, something I could relax and enjoy and call mine. Thing is, I didn't have anything like that and when I tried to think about it, nothing came to mind. I didn't have much at all, really, and I didn't really want anything. I just had a bunch of things I didn't want to lose—and a bunch of things I'd already lost. All my other hopes and dreams rested with the dead.

I guess I should work on that. For now, I'd just call it problem number ninety-nine. Because I've got ninety-ninety bad jokes and all of them were my life.

Ryuu seemed to understand that, though. We walked the rest of the way to the Hostess of Fertility in silence, but though she didn't say a word, she was very much there, as a comforting presence, if nothing else. She guided me carefully, enough so that all I really had to do was keep walking and not run into anything, and poof—we were at the Hostess of Fertility.

"Ryuu!" A voice called out the moment we entered and a moment later, Syr came running. She ran up to Ryuu and embraced the elf girl at once, wrapping her arms around her like she'd been lost for years and was only now coming home.

"Syr," Ryuu said back, voice even but quiet.

"You left us alone in the middle of the shift," Syr whimpered, sobbing. "We worked so hard, I thought we were going to die, and Mama Mia showed no mercy. She said I had to work four times as hard to make up for your absence, like I was to blame. Why is that!?"

"My apologies," Ryuu said…seriously? Maybe? "You have been through a lot for my sake."

"It was horrible," Syr groaned miserably. "Ryuu, save me. Take me away from this place—"

"Oi, don't you even think about shirking again, you brat," Mama Mia said, appearing—or rather, closing the distance—in an instant. "This is all your fault, anyway, slacking off in the morning."

"That has nothing to do with anything, Mama—"

"Quiet!" She commanded, voice and eyes sharp, especially as they turned towards Ryuu. "Girl. You have a lot of guts running out during the rush. If you'd stayed out any longer, I'd have had to take my ax off the wall and come looking for you."

"Hear that, Ryuu?" I said. "Mama Mia was really worried, too. If you'd stayed out much longer, she'd have had to leave the bar to come looking for you. Can you imagine this place without you or her around?"

"Is that what you took from that, Percy!?" Syr said, still sobbing and clinging to Ryuu, face buried in the elf's shoulder. "And what do you mean by that!?"

"Yes," Ryuu said over Syr's whining, lowering her head towards the owner of the bar. "I apologize, Mama Mia. I have no excuse for my behavior."

Mama Mia looked at her with narrowed eyes for a long, long moment before snorting.

"Hmph," Mia huffed, baring her teeth. I guess it can't be helped if it's you, eh? But I expect you to work twice as hard tonight, Ryuu."

"Yes," Ryuu said again.

"Why only twice, Mama?" Syr whimpered. "You made all of us work four times as hard! Ryuu, tell her it's not fair! Save me!"

"That's because two Ryuu's are worth at least twelve of you, you lazy brat!" Mia snapped. "Now get back to work, both of you!"

Ryuu nodded sharply, seeming to take the matter seriously and all but carrying Syr away in her arms like a princess. I waved as they went, watching them go as Syr reached out to me. I guess that was that, then. Should I eat something now or just go?

"Oi, boy," Mia said, voice stopping me before I could decide. "Good job with the dishes—and the elf."

"It's no problem," I said. "The dishes were nothing and Ryuu was my fault anyway."

"Mm," Mia mused, squinting at me as a huge racket came from the back of the bar, like something either crashing or exploding. Or crashing and then exploding. A vein was pulsing on Mama Mia's forehead, like she was trying to reign in her temper, and I wondered belatedly who cooked all the food here. Now that I thought about it, the girl were mostly waitresses, so…could it be Mama Mia's job. But with her up here…oh. "You don't happen to cook too, do you?"

"I'm physically incapable of making anything that's not colored blue, I'm afraid," I replied, shaking my head.

"Pity," She said. "Because I'm about to skin a cat. I heard Ryuu had some personal business to take care of. Something happen?"

I shook my head.

"Not really," I said, pretty sure I knew what she was really asking. "We walked around for a bit and I guess she just decided to come back. No big deal."

Mama Mia grunted once and swung a massive hand, clapping me on the back hard enough to nearly knock me off my feet and force the air from my lungs.

"Good job, boy," She told me, turning away quickly. "Come on up front—I'll make you something to eat on the house, since you look like shit."

"Gee," I said. "Thanks."

But when she led the way to the front of the bar, I followed.

"You find what you wanted?" She asked as she took her place behind the bar, cleaning out a mug and placing it in front of me before filling it up with something I assumed was alcoholic. I didn't drink, for a whole bunch of reasons, but I accepted the glass and looked down at the brownish-yellow liquid. When I tried to remember what all my reasons were, I found myself wondering if I really cared and why.

Then I thought about all the wrong people—and about what I might do if I got as drunk as I really wanted to get, in the mood I was in—and forced myself to put it down. If I was upset enough to pull water from my blood on accident, compromising my judgment further was probably unwise.

Instead, I looked up at Mama Mia.

"Huh?" I asked, belatedly realizing it was an odd question.

"What you came here for," She clarified, except not really, so I stared at her blankly until she rolled her eyes. "When you came to Orario, boy! It's pretty obvious you're not from around here."

"Oh," I said, frowning. I was about to tell her that I didn't really come here at all, that I'd just wound up in this place, but I guess the question was still valid. I did have something I was looking for, if not in the way she meant. "Not really. I didn't find what I hoped for, just what I probably should have expected."

"Mm," Mia said, nodding like she understood. For all I knew, she did. "You regret coming here?"

I shrugged.

"It's not really a matter of regret," I said. "I'm here now. I don't really have anywhere else to go, anyway. And I still have something I'm looking for."

She looked at me at that and nodded again.

"Want some advice, kid?" She asked.

"Sure," I said. "I could use all the help I can get."

"Figure out what that is," She said.

"Um…what?" I asked, tilting my head in confusion.

"What do you want?" She asked. "Think about it, really."

I did. It was easy enough, after all; I could barely stop thinking about it. I just didn't have any desire to tell her about it.

"I already know what I want," I said instead.

"Do you?" She asked, eyes meeting mine. She was a large, strong looking woman, but if I'd been standing, she'd have had to look up at me—and yet, her gaze was still piercing. "I've seen a lot of people, boy. Men and women, young and old. Seen a lot of adventurers, too. You see enough of them, you start seeing the same things on different faces, the same damn stories repeating again and again and again—and I know yours pretty goddamn well."

"Oh?" I asked. I tried not to mean anything by it; I knew I wasn't the only person who'd ever lost something, or even who'd ever lost everything, though most people probably weren't as literal examples as I was. Shit happens and I wasn't special in that regard; a lot of people had horrible lives. Even so, the word came out bitter. "And what's my story?"

"Someone who's still alive and doesn't know what to do about it anymore," She said easily, looking at me frankly even as I shifted in surprise. "I'd say it's funny, but it's really not, is it? When you lose something you can't live without and you're stuck living anyway. When you obsess over something you can't have, over a chance you know is all but impossible, and you chase after it anyway, even when you know it's a bad idea."

"…It's not like that. I know what to do," I whispered lamely, swallowing hard and looking down at the table. Maybe it was what just happened, but I couldn't make the words sound sincere. "And I know what I'm doing. I'm not…"

"Then why are you hesitating and wasting time here?" She asked. "If you've got something more important to do, get to it, boy."

"It's more complicated than that," I said.

Mama Mia waved her hand dismissively, as if trying to brush aside all my problems.

"Life's always complicated," She said. "If what you're after is so important, though, then it shouldn't matter, right? But here you are, wasting your time in my bar. You know what I think? I think you know damn well it's a bad idea. That what you're doing is hopeless."

"...Of course I know," I said quietly, not even trying to deny it now. This was striking too close to home to ignore, now. "But what do you expect me to do? Give up on them?"

"It's not giving up," She said. "Giving up implies you have a choice in that matter. What you're feeling now is just losing."

I took a deep breath and carefully didn't explode every glass in the bar—but it was a near thing. I felt like I was being kicked while I was down and it hurt, but Mama Mia probably thought she was helping, for one thing, and could also probably backhand my head off my shoulders. My long experience with the gods helped my hold my tongue.

"And if I don't agree?" I asked.

"That's the funny thing about facts, kid," She said. "They're true even if you don't believe in them. It's none of my business, but since you went out of your way for my girls, I'm say it anyway, for your sake. So take it from someone who knows; spending your life chasing something you know damn well you'll never get doesn't help anyone. You just hurt yourself and everyone who cares about you."

"You're right," I said, rising. "It is none of your business. Thanks for the offer, but I'm not hungry."

Mama Mia calmly put a hand on my shoulder, stopping me. As in, literally, stopping me. I tried to continue to move or pull away, but she had more strength in that one hand then I had in my entire upper body.

So instead, I looked from her hand slowly up to her, not saying a word. That's the funny thing about human interaction; physical contact changes all sorts of things.

"Let go," I said calmly, previous anger draining slowly away as I watched her silently.

Mama Mia sighed, like a mother tired of dealing with unruly children, and then eyed me as sharply as I did her.

"Do you think they'd want this?" She asked me. "Everything you're supposedly doing for their sakes? Would they want to see you getting into so much trouble for this? We both know this isn't really about them."

"I already told you," I answered, voice unchanging. "I already know all of that. Now let me go."

In tune with the words, the glasses and bottles all around us trembled once, shaking in place--and yet, somehow, the liquid within didn't seem to ripple in the slightest.

Mama Mia narrowed her eyes, looking for a moment like she wanted to smack me—but then she sighed again, as if she was giving up.

"What a pain in the ass," She grunted, releasing me. "Fine, idiot. Some people learn from the mistakes of others and some just have to make them themselves. But…I'm going to tell you right now. Leave my girls out of it."

I stepped away from her carefully before turning away.

"I didn't intend to cause problems for anyone else to begin with," I murmured.

"Idiot," She said again. "What the hell do you think you've been doing? Making friends, flirting with girls, getting involved—you think what you're doing isn't causing them trouble? They care about you, ya dumbass."

I stopped walking for a moment, silent in the face of the truth.

"Let's get to the real issue here," She said. "The terrifying truth. Are you sure you can't live without them? Or is that what scares you?"

"I…" I whispered, clenching my fists and gritting my teeth.

"—Mama, please stop," Syr said, surprising me. I hadn't noticed her approach, but she was standing there watching us, arms holding a tray against her chest.

"Syr…" The older woman said, voice low.

"I already know," Syr said, smiling beautifully. "So…please?"

"…Fucking pain in the ass," Mia said, grunting before turning. "Whatever. I've wasted enough time as is. Better make sure my kitchen isn't ruined."

She walked away, shaking her head and muttering under her breath.

"I'm sorry about that," Syr said, approaching and laying a hand on my arm. "Mama Mia can be harsh, but you're right--it's her way of worrying. About us…and about you, too."

I looked towards the kitchen and then at my hands.

"Maybe she has a point," I whispered. "But even if she does, I…I can't."

Syr hummed, seeming to consider that.

"Mama is really smart," She said. "But everyone makes mistakes and I think she's mistaken about you."

"What makes you say that?"

"I've seen a lot of people, too," She said, grey eyes clear and striking even as she smiled. "And I think that you're a good person. If you're not sure what to do, I think it's because you're kind, rather than indecisive. So…Percy, I think it's fine, who you are. As long as you come back safely, we'll welcome you every time, so if there's something you're after…just find it and come back, okay?"

"Syr…" I said, opening my mouth to continue but unable to find the words. So instead, I closed my eyes and nodded. "Thank you."

Somehow, just this once, I couldn't manage to apologize.