758 Sorting Matters
Adalia got hungry again.
No shock, and absolutely no inconvenience there. After all, deliberately drip feeding yourself will only last you for so long before the topsy-turvy wobble of vampire-anemia starts to set in again.
I just wish it didn’t have to always happen on the regular. Every strain of breath, every stagger of fatigue was just another painful reminder of the constant discomfort she was in at all times.
This time I was a whole lot faster on the uptaking. The exact moment I saw her make her first miss with a dart, hitting the board instead of the water balloon hanging just a single inch away, I quickly scurried us away from all the noise, trekking once again the familiar rugged terrain, brushing against brittle trees far enough away for no one to see the harsh glint of her fangs as they burrowed deep into my flesh.
As she refueled her tanks through the tiniest sips—another gloomy thought came ramming into me, as if I wasn’t already being pummeled by enough of them already.
Say, I just… die. Or if I was gone for some time, a long time—then what does that mean for her? Was it back to living on bird and rat carcasses, feasting and living off on meager borrowed time? Then what?
Actually, what was even their plan before I came cannonballing into the thick of things? I recall Amelia and her saying they were searching for my mother… but then, what were they actually planning to have her do?
I suspect I already knew the answer to that, but… thinking about it wasn’t gonna do me any favors here. I’m just glad I showed up when I had, came into her life when I did… and her into mine, even if we did get off on quite the rocky start.
All that pain, all that again, I’d go through it all over again in a heartbeat if I really had to.
.....
Which rounds us back to the original question. What if I wasn’t? What if I couldn’t? If I can be there for her no longer…
Not as if there’s preserving my blood or anything. She mentioned it before – my blood’s only viable when taken directly from the living, breathing source himself. So if she doesn’t have that, if she doesn’t have me…
“I am… thirsty…” Adalia retracted her fangs, stepping down from a tiptoe, her usual cold breath warm with crimson.
I immediately stopped thinking, letting out a feeble snort as I covered up my neck from the dry air.
“Didn’t realize I make you feel that way.”
“Not… for you…” She replied bluntly, owwie. “Cho…colate…”
“Again?”
“I am… thirsty…” She repeated herself. “Please…?”
A solid reason like that, what was I gonna do? Say no to arguably one of the most adorable creatures on the planet? I don’t think it was even physically possible of me.
Five minutes later I set us down onto another familiar beaten path, entering beneath the awning of a familiar open stall – the whirring sound of a blender and the clatter of utensils echoing the hectic melody of orders piling.
There was a swarm of people ahead of us. Apparently, the place has seen a surge in popularity since the last time we were here.
Once it got to our turn, the limping, intimidating mobster of a barista was all the more delighted to serve us once again.
“I thought you were just a temporary,” I said, watching him prepare Adalia’s order with expert grace and finesse. “Lemme guess, another staff member met with a, uh… unfortunate ‘accident’ of his own too?”
For my wit, I raised a chuckle out of him. And much like everything else about him, his laugh was as foreboding as he looked.
“There were numerous complaints about the quality of the drinks after my departure,” He explained, handing Adalia her extra large cup of sugary goodness. “Seems I’ve inadvertently raised some great expectations, one that my employee, suffice it to say, was ill-prepared to match. So, here I am again. Gladly at your service.”
Then with a grand gesture matching his caliber, he pulled out an extra cup sliding it across the counter and into my hands before I could protest.
“Not going to escape my generosity this time,” He said, suavely adjusting the cuff of his sleeves, and peering at me with a smile. “Wiser for you to just accept it.”
And so I did.
“Cheers.”
After glancing at Adalia already a fraction of the way through her drink, I went and took a sip. The moment I did, I felt the cold, icy sweetness assail every single one of my senses, and the man could plainly see the satisfaction coursing through my expression, as much I tried to not let it show.
It was just that good.
He was just that good.
If he brought these skills to my cafe, I’d most probably be out of the job.
With talent, aptitude like his, I’m not sure why he’s even bothering with the mobster life… but what do I know?
“By the way, I heard about how you fared in our first event,” with admiration a sincere glimmer in his gaze, he spoke. “As always, you continue to surpass my expectations. The fastest, and barely scathed despite the odds? I didn’t think it imaginable ordinarily.”
He laughed again, as if he just told a joke. I swear I’ve heard evil masterminds on films less devious-sounding than him.
“Then again, just what about you is ordinary, hm?” He asked, slowly veering his gaze over to Adalia. “And how about you? Having as much fun as you expected? I do hope you are.”
Adalia finally lifted her lips from her straw only to directly ask. “Are we… winning…? Can you tell us… if we are… winning…?”
I almost wanted to laugh myself right then and then. I found it absurd, hilarious. Here I was sinking into deeper depths of gloom thinking of the most bleak, morbid thoughts and feeling the dread and apprehension that came with it.
Then on the other hand you got Adalia here, her only priority, her only concern being the one on top place on some arbitrary leaderboard. She wasn’t thinking about what-ifs, what could have been, or what already was, ‘stead winning’s the only thing she’s got on her mind.
Even after all those questions, all those discussions. In the end, as she assured me, as she told me—that all didn’t matter to her anymore.
Having fun, that’s all that mattered now.
Should really start taking a page out of her book, shouldn’t I?
“I’m honestly unsure what gave you the impression that I’d break my own rules for you,” The man said to her. “Evening. Tonight. With everyone else, you’ll find out then.”
Dropping her gaze, Adalia sought refuge back in the chocolatey comfort of her drink. Displaying a silence, an indifference, that was the picture-definition of utter disappointment.
“Speaking of which,” The man pulled back on his sleeve, revealing the bright golden glint of a dazzling watch wrapped around his wrist. “I believe the next event will be starting soon. If you believe yourself ahead of everyone else, then I suggest you go on now and keep yourself that way.”
“Can you at least tell us what we’ll be in for this?” I asked, holding a now greatly wrinkled flier out before me. “Some of the names for these events kinda leave much to be desired.”
With an unintentionally oppressive stare, he considered my question for a moment.
“Refresh my memory… what is the next event referred to as again?”
My eyes scanned the content of the flier.
“Beauty contest.”
He smiled again, and it seemed he had come to a decision.
“Now why ruin the surprise?” with a wave, he shooed us away, turning his focus to a newly arrived customer in line.
We strolled onward to the venue of our next trial of love, a shorter, less eventful journey this time thankfully. On account of the fact that for some reason or another, we did not encounter a single judge, when usually every ten steps we took would be abruptly interrupted by the distinct click of a pen.
I searched the crowd, peek my head as far and wide as the massive sea of people would allow me, and indeed, there was not a single judge to be seen on the prowl.
It’s like they all just up and disappeared.
Weird.
Upon finally reaching the site of the event, I was only beset by more questions, questions like:
Why were there two big tents placed closely adjacent to one another? Why were there two tables, two attendants, and two places to register sitting out front of each tent?
A little wary, immensely puzzled, I lead Adalia and I over to one of the tables, approaching a bulky, gruff elf that looked more the part of Santa’s bouncer than little helper.
“Wrong table,” He said, rising up from his seat, and making me feel several inches shorter than I was. “The other tent.”
“Ahh, my bad,” I whirled my eyes to the right, throwing my gaze to the other attendee, a slimmer, friendlier looking elf which I recognized was the very same one from the first event. “Sorry to disturb you, we’ll just go and—”
“You go there,” The big elf thrust a bulky finger at me, flicked it, and pointed directly at Adalia. “She stays with me.”
Adalia tilted her head a little higher, and the gray in her eyes began to brew an unrest.
“Explain…” She asked him before I could get the chance to say. “Why…?”
“It’s a part of the game,” He answered. “The couples are separated. Guys in one tent, girls in the other.”
“What’s the game?” I asked.
“It’s in the name, dude,” The elf said wearily. “It’s a beauty contest.”
“You say that like I’m supposed to get it.”
“Look, you wanna participate, go over to your side,” He simply told me. “Your attendant will fill you in on the rest. Go on.”
Another couple came approaching, their hearts on their sleeves, and I watched as they made the same mistake as us on the opposite side. The female attendant spoke some words I didn’t catch, and a second later, the couple broke apart, with the lady of the pair striding over to our side.
“You can… go…” suddenly, slowly I felt Adalia uncoil her arms around me. “I will… be fine… on my own…”
I certainly didn’t doubt that. I knew a hundred and ten percent Adalia was well-equipped to face any and all adversity on her own. The only primary concern I had was, well…
Was I?
Guess I’ll find out.
“See you in a bit, then,” I told her, leaving with a parting ruffle of her silver hair, nearly knocking the hat off her head. “Show no mercy.”
“I… won’t…” She said in a faint tone of steadfast resolve. “We will… win…”
Indeed, winning, enjoying. Above all, more than woes, more than what-ifs, that was all that mattered. And just as she said…
We’ll win this, alright.
Whatever the hell this was…
I had a few ideas swirling around in my head though. Clues, hints, bits and pieces here and there.
Not a single judge in sight, a game of segregated genders, that name. I mean, ‘beauty contest’?
.....
Hmm...
Well then, let’s see if I’m really as clever as I think I am...
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