771 A Fulfilling Want
Again and again, Amelia’s crude, barbarian approach to problem-solving continued to prove an effective alternative to just simply working things out conventionally.
I mean, why use brain and do the smarts when oonga-boonga also do good, right?
Not even exaggerating either. Every paper trail we followed, in one way shape or form, would eventually wind up with her impatience getting the best of her before snarling and smashing until things went her way.
One clue had us looking for a person of interest in possession of the second artifact who had deliberately hidden themselves within the crowd, and to top it all off, a bunch of body doubles were placed here, there, and everywhere specifically to throw us off his trail.
Alas, what was supposed to be a game of cat-and-mouse prevailed through a combined team effort designed to strengthen our bond with one another, simply ended up with Amelia intimidating a double so badly, he just straight up snitched and ratted his boss out.
Rinse and repeat this exact strategy for everything else ad nauseam and what you’re left with was a pretty tedious escort mission where you just sit back and watch as everything is resolved for you.
Don’t mind me, just still wistfully wishing the real Adalia was the one hunting and exploring by my side instead. This was really the perfect game for her and me.
No having to run for our lives tripping our roots in a devil-infested forest of red, green, and blue. No complete strangers to fret over and impress in arbitrary rounds of looks and wits. This game here, the way it was made, was wholly and purely designed for the aim of pure and simple fun.
If only we could have exactly as it was intended.
.....
Yeah, if only…
Can’t really complain, though. All things considered, we were making quite a good pace, that by the time we got done extorting the fourth artifact from another poor, unfortunate staff member, roughly only ten minutes had gone and passed. A third of the time we were given.
The one silver lining I can garner from this scenario at the very least, ’cause say what you will about Leon and his capabilities, but I highly doubt his efforts could match that of an extremely cranky vampire on a warpath devoted solely to her dear, darling sister.
“The box,” Amelia commanded, her bitter tone at relish for all this to finally be over. “Where does it lead us next?”
Then there’s my job. The reader, the decoder, the guy that points in a direction and sics the rampaging Matriarch onto whatever meticulously-crafted obstacle was next for her to utterly deconstruct.
I plucked out the padlock dangling loosely over the clasp of the chest that she busted and dented to kingdom come, and pulled out another thin roll of parchment containing our next destination.
It was another map, another point of interest illustrated in ink, and almost at once, I recognized the wide expansive space, the littered white mounds of buried stone, and the large frozen sheet of ice spread across the page.
Seeing it was like pungent salt to the bitter wound… having to head back to the place where the fun all began, knowing she wasn’t here to see its end.
“The lake,” I said, rolling back the piece of paper. “The last piece is there.”
“Good,” with a sharp turn diverting our route, Amelia once again took charge of our march. “Finally an end to this madness.”
And as we walked the familiar path past countless stalls, winding through bustling crowds, I figured since none of us was up to too much conversation, I’d try instead to make sense of the pieces we had gathered so far.
One, two, three, four artifacts together barely the width and length of my palm. Actually they looked more like four missing fragments of a whole, and rearranging them slightly, it really wasn’t hard to make it out what it was supposed to be.
In fact, I was already expecting it.
“We’re gathering pieces of a heart,” I spoke up, amused in spite of myself, pocketing the pieces into my coat. “How cute.”
“Of course we are,” Amelia scoffed back at me, the delightful bundle of joy she was. “After all, Ingenuity is a scarce rarity among your kind. Why should it be anything else?”
Y’know as much I’d love to declare her as nothing more but a cynic and a clear affront to the very spirit of Christmas, that really wouldn’t be quite fair of me, and especially not fair to her.
After all, the fact that she was even here with me, despite having an overinflated ego almost big enough to eclipse the sun… to be willing to put herself through this torture that was undoubtedly more agony for her than it was for me…
Well then, I can’t really say she was playing this game wrong. It’s a contest of love, after all. And here she was, stomping and snarling all the way, exhibiting a love something fierce.
It’s kinda curious, really…
“Why are you doing this?” I said, asking what I rightfully should have long ago. “Putting yourself through this, I mean.”
“Well, aren’t you just ridiculously obtuse,” I got thrown back at me, a hint of her glare snapping back at me. “Please do not admit to me that you truly cannot make sense of my intentions. Even you cannot truly be this daft.”
“Yes, I know. You love your sister very much, you’ll do anything for her. That part I get,” I said, reassuring her that I wasn’t as stupid as I looked. “But this, specifically? You want to do something for her, then you could have done anything else for her. This, sorry to be blunt, but, this really has nothing to do with you, doesn’t it?”
“And why do you deem it necessary for you to know?” She responded. “My actions, motives, are my own. I don’t see the incentive nor the necessity to explain myself to you.”
“No, of course, you don’t have to say anything,” I gave her a look, a shrug. “But if I want to thank you for doing this… then I at least want to know what exactly it is I’m thanking you for.”
We walked ahead of most of the crowd by now, the line of stalls growing more sparse with each one passed, and entering a lengthy stroll of silence, I finally could hear more than harshness to her tone.
“My sister wants this. You heard her, you promised her, did you not? To grant her what she desires,” She said slowly, what little I could see of her expression, past the feigned silver of her hair, hardened with determination. “My sister has never desired… to wish for something in earnest… circumstances have never allowed her once the meager privilege of it.”
I felt the mood take a turn, a sharp shift steering towards the somber, and even without saying any more, I understood her completely.
“I wish to grant her this privilege, to fulfill this promise as much as you do,” Amelia went on. “Even if it means playing advocate to your… atypical relationship… because more than anything else, beyond all other matters, I simply wish my sister the happiness she never had.”
Then she turned around a bit more, showing more of her face, bearing a strong resemblance to her gentler, kinder sister in ways that went beyond just the physical.
“And if the price of that should only entail a brief moment of indulging your silly, trivial games,” She scoffed again, still ever that same bundle of joy. “Then truly, it is no price to pay at all.”
Indeed. Though the dour, the surly, and as ill-meaning as she can certainly be, Amelia was the very embodiment of what Christmas was all about.
Whether she knows it herself or not.
“Wow…” slowly, I felt a smile begin to curve my lips. “...so you can be absolutely loveable when you want to. I’m shocked.”
Amelia rolled her eyes, stifling a groan with a milder sigh.
“You keep saying your sister is much like you on and on,” I continued to speak. “But, y’know what? Maybe you’re also much more like your sister as well. Got her rubbing off on you.”
“Spare me your feeble attempts at flattery,” She said sternly. “You are undoubtedly the last person I desire to hear any from.”
“Oh?” I raised her a brow. “Then who would you rather pay you a compliment instead?”
And I swear I saw her ponder the question for just a brief second, actually indulge the notion for a fleeting moment, before retreating back behind her wall of solid ice, turning away and hastening her pace.
“Should I guess?” I spoke up again, keeping up with her stride. “I have a good feeling about my guess.”
“No one,” She answered flatly, blowing past me even faster. “Compliments from your kind are beneath me.”
Yet for someone claiming to be so indifferent to compliments, she sure has such a strong reaction to it.
Curious.
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