Omen of a Bluebell

The next few hours pass in a blur, with Cari, Bella, and I spending the majority of our time playing with the twins.

There are games I only half understand, with rules that change on a whim, and an endless rotation of dolls, toys, and imaginary scenarios that demand my full attention. Cari throws herself into it with unrestrained enthusiasm, and Bella follows along with an impressive amount of grace.

I find myself more dragged along than anything—whether I mean to be or not—and laughing more than I expect to, given my current state. I thought it would be harder to stay focused on the kids, but as usual, my estrus seems intent on bowling through every expectation I have.

Instead of struggling against my instincts, it’s like they’re not even there. It crops up here and there in the moments of quiet where Bella and I lock eyes, but only for a moment.

Then it’s gone just as soon as the girls demand my attention again.

I don’t even have to drink another vial of medicine, which both relieves and frustrates me. On the one hand, I’m glad I don’t have to keep trying to drug myself just to function. On the other, my estrus is entirely too unpredictable.

At some point, Darla feeds us. I’m not entirely sure when it happens. One moment we're playing on the floor, and the next we’re seated around a table laden with warm food.

Nothing fancy—bread bowls filled with a hearty stew, steamed vegetables, cheeses… but every bit of it is filled with love and care.

She refuses our attempts to help in cleaning up, shooing us away with fond impatience, and scolds the girls gently when they try to sneak food out of the dining room. Watching her bustle about the house is like watching a master craftsman, each and every motion practiced and deeply loved.

Both Cari and I find ourselves basking in the genuine smiles she offers us, enjoying the moments of comfort and home, even if it’s not really ours to keep.

We stay far longer than we intend.

Long enough for the light outside to soften and for the girls’ boundless energy to finally begin to ebb. Their excitement slowly gives way to comfortable closeness, small hands tugging at sleeves, sleepy heads leaning on shoulders.

Eventually Darla recruits us into putting them to bed, and I watch as Cari and Bella carry the two upstairs with a measure of care I doubt I could manage.

For a bit after even that, we stay to chat, cups of warm tea in our hands as the house settles into sleep. That’s when we finally learn more about Darla and her husband, Marcus.

Apparently they weren’t able to have kids due to some accident with her alchemical experiments, and they’d taken to adopting whenever they could. Nyra and Lyra are the fourth adoption they’ve made, the others having long since grown up and moved out on their own.

According to her, it was Marcus who picked the girls up all by himself while on a caravan run.

“The moment he saw them, he just knew they were for us. The big ‘ol softy was right,” she chuckles, sounding wistful. “They’re a bright star in these times of change. We couldn’t be happier to call them our daughters.”

The conversation drifts after that, going from small stories about their family to little details about the girls themselves. When it’s finally time to leave, Darla stops us near the door, hugging each of us in turn. Even the gruff Orik isn’t spared of her affections.

“You are all welcome back anytime. No need for letters or invitations,” she says, eyes sweeping over our group. Then she gives Cari and I a look full of softness. “This is your home too, so far as I’m concerned.”

She says it as if it were the simplest thing in the world, and I can tell she means it. Not just because of how she says it, but because of what we learned about her as the night went on.

So instead of shrugging the words off as some nice platitude, they settle somewhere deep in my chest, warm and aching all at once. Cari seems just as stunned by her invitation, only managing a weak nod before we're back on the streets, heading for the academy.

The walk is quiet. Despite my instincts trying their best to distract me, I manage to let myself be absorbed in those last moments with Darla.

Neither of us speak, but I think both Cari and I are thinking the same thing. We’re far too old to be adopted. That door closed years ago, quietly and without ceremony.

Still, the idea of it lingers anyway, and I can’t help but to fantasize about what it would be like.

To have a home like that. A mother figure like Darla.

It’s the kind of thing that used to burn me whenever I dared to dream of it, but for some reason it doesn’t sting so much now.

Maybe it’s because of my experience with the Bluebell’s Recompense dungeon. Or maybe it’s just because I’m older—I don’t know.

About halfway back to the Academy, Cari shifts from her contemplations, a small smile creeping onto her face. She doesn’t look at me when she reaches over, but her fingers find mine all the same, squeezing gently.

I squeeze back, then on reflex repeat the process with Bella’s hand. My stomach flips with the gesture, but I manage to keep myself from purring. My tail still betrays my nerves, but I firmly pretend it doesn't exist.

Eventually, after passing through the misty gateway to the Academy, we part ways with our escort. Sylas reminds us, politely but firmly, that our student ID’s will alert Academy security if we attempt to leave again, and that escorts will be provided as needed.

And that there will be no exceptions.

While mildly annoying and potentially embarrassing in the future, I begrudgingly accept it. Then they’re gone nearly as fast as they appeared.

On the fly over to the girls dormitory, I find myself staring at Bella again, her scarlet eyes practically glowing in the moonlight. She notices, and the smile she gives me captures the rest of my wandering mind for the majority of our trip back.

I barely take two steps into our dorm room before something catches my eye.

A small, plain wooden box sits on the table between the couches. There’s no seals or sigils I can see at a glance, but a single letter rests on top, folded neatly, my name written across the front in delicate script.

I quickly cross the room, lifting the letter and peeling it open. The first sentence makes my heart race with anticipation.

~~~~~~

Emilia,

As promised, enclosed is the medicine I have developed to help regulate and suppress your estrus cycle.

After extensive analysis of your mana signature, blood, and far too much time in the library, this is the only viable solution I have been able to reproduce in time.

It is important that you understand this is not a conventional form of birth control, nor does it function in a way you may be familiar with. As Fae, your urges are not chemical in origin. They are mana-driven, arising from the mana composing your body itself.

That is why these vials work by forcibly restricting that aspect of your mana. While effective, such suppression is not without consequence.

Firstly, your overall mana regeneration will be significantly reduced for the duration of the medicine’s effect. According to the studies I’ve read, you should expect a minimum reduction of fifty percent, with the possibility of it reaching as high as eighty percent.

Secondly—and this is less certain—there is a risk of emotional suppression. It’s possible that limiting your mana in this manner may also dull your emotional responses. If you already have Skills that deal in handling emotional responses, this is significantly less of a risk.

Drink no more than one vial per week, and only until your cycle has passed.

Under no circumstances are you to consume an additional dose early, even if the effects seem diminished or fail to manifest entirely. If either comes to pass, you are to come see me immediately.

PS. Do not worry about your entrance exams. While we still expect you to participate and do your best, the effects of this medicine will be accounted for when scoring your performance if it is necessary. Given your absurd mana regeneration, I doubt it will prove too limiting, but I hope this soothes any lingering concerns.

Sincerely,

Selenia del Primdal, Headmistress of Elderwynd Academy

~~~~~~

Opening the box, I find four vials of dark purple liquid with swirls of glittery teal flowing within, as if through some unseen current.

I pause for a moment, forcing myself to think it through.

The side effects are no small thing. A reduction in my mana regen will sting, but the true severity of its effects will depend on how it interacts with my Skills. Specifically, All For One.

I have no way of knowing how it will work, though. Will it reduce my mana regen as if it’s actively being spent on something? Or will it just reduce my mana regen to a new, albeit lower, rate?

If the former, this is going to suck. If the latter, though… almost nothing will change.

Except I may not be able to heal as fast, which… is probably fine.

The emotional aspect I’m not so worried about. While I don’t like it, I have some experience with the Mental Suppression Skill, which turned into Total Suppression after Pain Tolerance evolved.

I know what the signs are that my emotions are being suppressed, and I know that even if they are, I’m able to keep my head on straight.

Plus, she said that if I have a mental Skill of some kind already that it’s less likely to be a side effect, so I may not even have to worry about it in the first place.

But what everything really boils down to is the need to be in control of myself. My estrus cycle hasn’t been so terribly out of hand that I’ve done something I regret. At least, not yet.

But what if it escalates further? What if I do lose control of myself and do something awful? Would I even notice things getting worse?

I don’t feel like it ever would, but with how insidious and unnoticeable it was at the start, I can never truly be certain. I flirted with Bella for days without even realizing what I was doing, after all.

The thought of losing myself, even temporarily, to something I can prevent right here and now tilts me towards a decision.

I hesitate for only a moment before uncorking one and drinking.

The effect is immediate.

Much like the very first vial of birth control I took, the liquid cools my body as it goes down, like liquid ice. Then it spreads from my belly, filling my entire being with a calm I hadn’t known I’d been missing.

Everything slows down. My thoughts, my body, my heart… it all relaxes.

The lingering haze in my mind, which I only just realized was there, evaporates like mist. The low, constant warmth thrumming beneath my skin cools, settling into something manageable.

I draw in a slow breath, and for the first time in days, it doesn’t feel like my senses are screaming at me.

Bella’s presence is still there. The faint scent of spices and flowers lingers at the edge of my awareness, but it’s softer and distant. No longer overwhelming.

Not gone, just… quiet.

With my newfound clarity, I can finally think about what I’m going through. I feel a hint of my cycle even still. But it’s gentle.

I take a moment to analyze it.

I know, deep down, that I still find Bella incredibly attractive. Instincts or no, she is just that gorgeous.

She’s also trustworthy. And kind. And smart. And great with people of all sorts. Kids too. And her smile is so—

I stop thinking about it. There’s an all too familiar warmth building in my cheeks, but unlike before, I can control myself now. I lean into my Charisma stat, and it works.

Where before, I hadn’t even considered leaning on my Stats to help me control myself, now I have enough of my own mind to actually do it almost on reflex.

The fact that I never even thought to—even while on the less effective medicine—makes my stomach twist with dread.

I was running on pure instinct, and completely unable to realize it.

With Charisma’s guiding hand, I force myself into a measure of composure. I exhale again, long and slow, and realize only then how tightly I’ve been holding myself together all this time.

So I relax, my shoulders unwinding, my back straightening just a touch.

I doubt I can give off the near regal feel that Bella does, but I can manage... composed. Maybe.

At the very least, I'll manage mature.

Unlike the past several days.

Mental gripes aside, I replace the vial and store the box in my Starlight Bangle.

I know I should check my Status for the effects on my mana regen, but I put it aside for the moment. I can worry about it later. Right now, I just want to settle in and enjoy the quiet of my mind for as long as possible.

Turning, I find both Bella and Cari looking at me. Bella seems mostly just curious, while Cari’s eyes glitter with anticipation and hope.

“Well?!” she blurts. “Did it work?”

I give her my widest grin.

She whoops loudly before crashing into me with a hug.

“Thank the gods!” she says, exaggerated relief clear in her voice. “I was getting tired of babysitting.”

I pinch her side.

I spare Bella a look and find her analyzing me now, looking at me more closely than ever before. As if she can actually see the changes.

Maybe she can.

There’s a knock at the door, and before I can even ask who it is, Cari’s already dashed through the room to open the door. Just past her, I catch sight of Carmine, the wolfkin tailor who…

My mind stutters for a moment, the memory of her taking my measurements in front of Bella flashing before my eyes, then fading to the back of my mind once more.

But this time, I’m just mildly embarrassed about what happened.

And maybe a bit of scared of her.

That woman is far, far more powerful than she looks.

Before I can really respond to her presence, she’s gone, the door closing with a click. Cari spins around with a wobble, her arms now laden with two thick leather suitcases, eyes glittering dangerously.

The grin on her face is absolutely terrifying.

“It’s our uniforms!” she hisses excitedly, rushing forward and shoving one of the suitcases into my arms.

On its side, I see an etching of my name in decorative golden script. Cari quickly sets hers on the central table, right where my medicine once was, while Bella speed-walks towards her own bedroom, as if she’s on some urgent mission.

With two satisfying clicks, Cari’s suitcase pops open. Inside lay her uniforms, neatly organized and so perfectly folded that I am absolutely sure that once we take them out, we’ll never get them back in the same way again.

She gasps, pulling out one of the garments.

Then Bella is rushing back out of her room, her own arms full of similarly styled clothes.

When my gaze returns to Cari, she’s eying me with a frown.

“Well?” she demands. “Are we trying them on or are we staring at them?”

Bella laughs softly, already sorting through her own pieces on the couch. “Trying them on,” she says, calm as ever. “That’s the entire point.”

I bark out a laugh, suddenly understanding what has them both so excited. With a shake of my head, I crack open my own suitcase on the couch opposite Bella.

In no time at all, we’ve each decided on which uniform to wear—though I wasn’t actually given a choice. Both Cari and Bella insisted I wear one of the ones with a skirt.

Which is most of them, but still. I give it a once over with Relic Whisperer, curious.

Elderwynd Uniform Jacket

Common

Enchantments:

Perfect Unrestricted Movement

This item will never impede the wearer’s motion, regardless of action, posture, or exertion.

Each piece is the same, even the underwear, and I’m honestly surprised that it’s not more heavily enchanted. What with the whole ‘magic academy’ thing, and all. Still, I decide to ask about it later. I’d bet on there being a reason behind it.

Once in my room, I change behind the partition, piece by piece, and quickly realize that the uniform is a bit more involved than I care for.

The underlayers are softer and far more pretty than expected—white, lace-trimmed, and unbelievably comfortable. The garter and stockings follow, snug without being restrictive.

A little annoyingly, they ground the rest of the outfit in a way I hadn’t been able to picture during the planning, but that everyone else swore by.

They were right.

By the time I pull on the skirt and jacket, I understand the design philosophy. Still, it’s more layers and steps than I care for.

Once I store them in my bangle, I won’t have to actually get dressed again, so at least I won’t have that headache…

When I step back out, the skirt sways lightly around my thighs, stopping well above my knees but nowhere near indecent.

I still grimace at it on principle.

“I do not like skirts,” I mutter.

“You say that,” Cari replies immediately, “but you are objectively wrong.”

I glance down again despite myself.

The garter and stockings keep everything firmly where it belongs, the fabric hugging my legs just enough to feel secure rather than exposed. It’s… tasteful.

And, I begrudgingly admit, flattering.

Then I look up, and my gaze locks onto Bella.

She stands a few steps away, already changed, hands folded behind her back. Her expression is polite and composed, but her eyes linger. Just a fraction longer than before. Tracking the way I shift my weight. The way the hem of my skirt moves.

The medicine does nothing to stop the heat that creeps up my neck.

But it does stop me from spiraling.

I straighten, lifting my chin slightly. If I am going to be looked at, I may as well own it. I lean on my Charisma stat again, allowing it to lend me confidence.

Bella notices.

Her gaze flickers upward, meeting mine. For half a second, something unreadable passes between us.

Then Cari claps her hands loudly, shattering the moment.

“Ooh, you are so going to have a problem,” she says gleefully. “Between that and your face? We’re going to have to beat the boys off of each other with a stick.”

I snort before I can stop myself. Looking at her, I find that she’s also changed into her uniform, though she has no stockings. Instead, her skirt is lower, nearer her knees, and her legs are bare.

“Sure. I’ll make sure to leave the nerdy one alone. What was his name again?”

Cari freezes as I tap my chin, sifting through my thoughts at lightning speeds thanks to Intelligence. Then it hits me.

“Oh, that’s it! Taruq! I’ll make sure to let him reach you,” I say, giving her a suggestive wink.

Color slowly floods her face.

She sputters. “Y-you—I did not—that is not—”

Suddenly, a shoe sails through the air.

I barely manage to dive behind a couch, laughing as it thumps harmlessly against the floor behind me.

“Worth it,” I shout over the back of my makeshift barrier.

Bella exhales a quiet laugh, shaking her head. “You are both incorrigible.”

I peek over the edge of the couch to spare her a glance, taking a moment to really look at her. Like most of the school uniforms, the color scheme is the same. Black and white, with hints of silver in the buttons and decorative bits I can’t even begin to name.

But she also wears a skirt with a garter and stockings. This time, it’s my eyes that linger on her.

Maybe I am incorrigible.

Whatever it is that I’m feeling right now, it’ll probably be there when my cycle ends.

I smooth my skirt down one more time, and make myself a promise.

If it is, I’ll face it then. With a clear and open mind.

The instant I finish the thought, Cari’s other shoe hits me square in the face.

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