“They don’t have much entertainment down here, do they?” Vicky asked, her claws clicking lightly against the polished stone street as she walked alongside Mera.

The seamstress glanced around at the towering hive structures, all chitinous curves and glowing glyph-lamps that pulsed like slow heartbeats. “Not that I know of. We didn’t have much either, really. Mostly food and drink… and they don’t drink down here.”

Vicky let out a soft huff. “That explains why there’s no taverns. Can’t say I don’t miss it.”

Mera smiled faintly, though it was tinged with nerves. “Festivals? Do they do that here?”

“Maybe.” Vicky shrugged, her tail swaying idly behind her. “We could ask, but most of them don’t speak Htulthan. So we’d just sound like we’re babbling at them.”

“Right…” Mera’s gaze lingered on a passing drone, its antennae twitching as it carried a basket full of pale food spheres. She lowered her eyes quickly, fidgeting with the edge of her sleeve.

“Well,” Vicky continued, “we can still do our picnic. That’s ours, no translation needed. Oh—” she brightened suddenly, “they do have plays here. We could wander around and try to find one?”

Mera’s steps faltered, her hands twisting in the fabric she carried with her. “Oh, uhm… sure! Whatever you want. I don’t mind.”

Vicky laughed softly, the sound light and warm. “You keep saying that, sweetheart. But it’s a date. I want to know what you want.”

Mera flushed, biting her lip as her eyes stayed fixed on the path ahead. “I… I’d like the play. If you want it too. It sounds nice.”

Vicky’s smile softened. She leaned down a little to catch Mera’s shy glance. “Then it’s settled. A play it is. Even if it’s six hours of buzzing and antenna waggling, we’ll see it through together.”

Mera let out a small laugh despite herself, shoulders easing. “You’d really sit through that with me?”

“Of course.” Vicky flicked her tail. “That’s what a date is, isn’t it?”

“I-I guess.” Mera’s lips curled into a shy smile, her fingers fussing with the hem of her sleeve.

“Oh—maybe I could try making some alcohol.” Vicky’s claws tapped thoughtfully against her arm as her eyes wandered toward the glowing crystal lamps. “I don’t know if I could go without it forever, and I know Jakira’s been feeling a bit of the thirst. Maybe mead? I like mead.”

Mera perked up at that, her shoulders straightening. “Ooh, if you could make wine too, that would be nice. I miss it myself.”

“I’ll see what I can do,” Vicky said with a shrug. “Wine might be harder, but if we could maybe import some grapes then I could try it. I mean, at that point I could just import some wine, but I really want to try my hand at this sort of thing, y’know?”

Mera giggled softly. “Oh, I get it! Like me—I could just buy clothes, but someone’s gotta make them, and I like making them. That way I can tailor things the way I like them.” She hugged her bundle of fabric to her chest with a proud little squeeze.

“Only problem is money, I guess. I don’t really have anything to sell.” Vicky’s voice dipped a little, her tail slowing its sway.

“Oh, well…” Mera brightened suddenly, almost bouncing on her toes. “All the cloth that was given to me was silk, if you would believe it. Lots of bolts of it. I could make some dresses or something and we could try to sell them above ground. And in return”—her cheeks warmed, but she pressed on—“you give me the first taste of whatever drink you make!”

“Deal.” Vicky’s grin showed just a hint of fang, her tail swishing lazily behind her.

Mera beamed, clutching the cloth bundle she always carried with her. “Good! And I’ll make sure your dress is the first one finished. Something proper, not just my practice work.”

“You’d make a dress just for me?” Vicky tilted her head, feigning surprise, though her warm eyes gave her away.

Mera’s cheeks went pink. “O-of course. I mean, you’d look good in anything, but… I’d like to make something that’s yours. That feels like you.”

Vicky’s laugh came out soft, low in her throat. “Careful, sweetheart, you’re making me blush.”

“I mean… it’s true. Your hair is like spun silver, and those eyes are so pretty, and you’re tall and… yeah.”

“You’re awfully flirty for someone who was worried about social rules a few days ago.” Vicky’s grin widened into something sly, her tail curling lazily behind her. “Didn’t take much of a push for you, did it?”

“W-what? No—I mean, yes, or no, I don’t know!” Mera flailed with her hands, nearly dropping the basket she was carrying. “I’m just telling the truth. You’re… really pretty. I’m just, you know, plain.” Her voice sank with the last word, her gaze slipping toward the ground.

Vicky halted mid-step, claws clicking sharply against the stone as she stopped. Mera stumbled to a stop as well, blinking up at her nervously.

“Have you never seen a mirror in your life?” Vicky’s expression was somewhere between bewilderment and outrage. “How can you call yourself plain? Those big green eyes, those soft lips—hells, almost everything about you is designed to be cute, and the rest is just sexy.” She jabbed a claw lightly toward Mera’s chest, making the poor seamstress squeak. “And don’t even get me started on these. I know mine have some heft to them, but I could get my head lost between yours, right?”

Mera squealed into her hands. “V-Vicky!”

“The Queen calls you the ‘squishy cute one,’ and she’s gods-damned right. Even your personality is adorable. I’ll fight anyone who argues otherwise. Even you.” Vicky’s tone turned fierce, but the grin tugging at her lips betrayed her amusement.

Mera’s voice came out as a tiny squeak. “Oh.”

“Yeah. Oh.” Vicky’s tail gave a victorious flick. “So get that ‘plain’ nonsense out of your head. If you won’t take it from the Queen, then take it from me. I’ve bedded men and women across three different nations, and you? You’re right up there in the upper echelons.” She said it with a kind of fiery passion that made the words impossible to shrug off.

Mera just blinked at her, mouth opening and closing like a fish. Finally, all she managed was another helpless: “Oh.”

Vicky laughed, shaking her head. “Gods, you’re hopeless. Cute, though.”

The human made a strangled noise and went beet red, but said no more.

They did eventually reach their first and only planned stop. Vicky hadn’t put too much thought into the destination; she intended to just go with the flow. Even if there wasn’t much in the way of “proper” entertainment down here, the sights themselves were worth it — towering hive-spires that seemed to breathe faintly with life, soft crystal-light glowing in veins through the walls, and the constant background hum of countless unseen swarm-folk moving about their lives. Alien, yes, but in its own way, beautiful.

Vicky tugged the blanket from under her arm and shook it out with a snap, setting it across a smooth stretch of stone near one of the glowing walls. She lowered herself down with an easy sigh, her tail curling idly around her side.

“Alright, hand me the goods,” she said, grinning as Mera carefully set the basket down between them like it was the crown jewels.

“Well,” Vicky said as she began unpacking it, “I made us some meat sandwiches, got some fruit, and something called rinne chips. Haven’t made them before, but I’m sure you’ll like them.”

She set the food out neatly, claws tapping softly against the basket’s rim.

Mera tilted her head, curiosity brightening her nervous expression. “Rinne chips?”

“Mmhm.” Vicky grinned, baring just the faintest hint of fang. “Thin slices fried until they go crisp. Supposed to be salty, crunchy, the kind of thing you keep eating even when you’re already full.”

Mera’s eyes widened. “Fried food? That’s… that’s something only nobles could afford back home. I’ve never even—” She caught herself, her words tripping over her nerves, then ducked her head. “…I mean, thank you. This looks wonderful.”

Vicky chuckled, passing her one of the sandwiches. “Sweetheart, if you get any cuter, I’m gonna have to start charging admission just to sit across from you.”

Mera groaned softly into her hands, but she peeked at her through her fingers all the same, her lips twitching with a smile she couldn’t hide.

Vicky unwrapped the bundle of rinne chips, her tail flicking with satisfaction at her own handiwork. She’d spent the better part of a week testing out how to slice them thin enough, how long to dunk them in hot oil before they went from perfect to burnt. Now, seeing the golden curls piled high, she felt almost proud.

“Oh! They’re so crunchy!” Mera exclaimed the moment she tried one. Her eyes lit up, and she covered her mouth like she wasn’t sure if it was polite to talk mid-bite. “Oh, I like these. Rinne chips, you said?”

“Yeah,” said Vicky, leaning back on one hand. “There’s a special cutter for them, then you deep fry them in oil for a short time. Trick is, they burn easy.”

Mera blinked, curiosity spilling into her tone. “Deep fry? You had that much oil? How?”

The dragonkin shrugged, tossing a chip in her mouth with a toothy grin. “Secret. Can’t say.”

“You have a lot of secrets…” Mera murmured, half-pouting.

“Assume anything to do with food, I can’t talk about it. Promised I wouldn’t. So… please stop asking for now?”

That made Mera flinch like she’d been swatted. “O-oh, uhm, okay. Sorry.” She ducked her head, shoulders curling in.

Vicky stared at her for a moment, chewing slower. Gods, that look. Like she’d just crushed the poor girl underfoot. Her chest tightened with something protective, something a little warmer than she was ready to admit. She swallowed and forced her tail to stop twitching.

Mera, perhaps to distract herself, suddenly perked up. “Oh! I have an idea.” She grabbed one of the meat sandwiches, hesitated with it half-unwrapped, then blinked down at the bread. “Wait… how is it so soft?” She shook her head, catching herself. “Right, sorry. Umm.”

She carefully lifted one slice of bread, tucked a handful of chips inside, then pressed it back together and took a bite. The crunch was loud and satisfying. Her eyes went wide.

“Oh, you have to try this!” she said, half through her mouthful. “The meat is so tender and the salad’s so fresh and the chips—oh—they’re so crunchy!” She looked almost childishly delighted, holding the sandwich out toward Vicky like she’d just uncovered a grand secret.

Vicky couldn’t help it. She laughed, low and warm, and leaned in to take a bite from Mera’s hand.

“You’re right. This is good,” Vicky said after chewing, licking a crumb from the corner of her mouth. “I’ll have to make these for Jakira when I get to her date.” She chuckled, tail curling lazily behind her. “You two are polar opposites. I’m interested to see how that date goes.”

“Uhm, yeah.” Mera’s fingers fidgeted with the edge of her sandwich. “She’s… strong.”

Vicky nodded gravely. “Muscles.”

Mera mirrored the motion. “Muscles.”

They both broke into a short laugh, the tension softening between them as their voices echoed lightly in the cavern air.

“This is a strange situation though, isn’t it?” Vicky asked after another bite, chewing thoughtfully.

Mera tilted her head. “Which one?”

“We’re living with millions of insectoids in a cavern so big I can’t even see the edges, eating food that would make any noble jealous.” She gestured vaguely with her sandwich. “Actually, weird thought—how safe do you feel down here?”

Mera blinked at the question, then considered it. “Actually… now that you mention it, I feel really safe.” She gave a small, nervous laugh. “I didn’t like the looks some men gave me back in Gloriana, but I don’t get that here. Nobody stares at me like that.”

Vicky leaned back on her hands, gazing at the glowing moss overhead. “We could probably run around naked and no one would bat an eye.” She grinned. “I don’t even think we’re what the swarm would consider attractive.”

That drew a startled giggle from Mera, who quickly covered her mouth. “Then why does the queen seem to be… into us?”

The question caught Vicky mid-swig of her drink. She froze, throat working as she swallowed. That gave her pause. She had theories, plenty of them. Ones that Edward could probably answer in full, but his lips were sealed too. But after her sister’s betrayal, her instinct to guard secrets had calcified into something unyielding.

Vicky shook her head, tone even. “Ask her when she gets back.”

Mera pouted faintly but nodded, resting her chin in her hands as if already rehearsing what she might say.

They finished their picnic and packed everything neatly back into the basket before wandering aimlessly, letting the gentle flow of the cavern’s bustle guide them. Eventually, they stumbled across a gathering. A stage had been erected from woven resin and hardened silk, lit by glowing moss and bioluminescent fireflies drifting lazily in glassy orbs.

There were no chairs, no carved benches or padded cushions like the theatres of Vicky’s youth. Everyone simply sat on the stone floor, arranged with a practical order that made her smile: smaller castes like the builders settled near the front, while the towering defenders lounged further back, wings and limbs folded neatly so as not to block anyone’s view. It was oddly harmonic.

Vicky felt that familiar tickle behind her ear—the little maggot that had once made her skin crawl but now served as her interpreter. After a couple of weeks, she barely noticed it, though she remembered the first days when every wriggle had sent her shivering. Now she could catch the subtle rhythms of their speech, the chitters and hisses blending into something that, to her mind, resembled a heavily accented form of Htulthan.

She and Mera found a spot near the front and spread their blanket again, folding themselves down among the builders as the play unfolded. It had clearly been running for a while, but the narrative wasn’t hard to follow.

The story told of a human queen who, at the urging of a clever builder, dared to approach the swarm queen in friendship rather than fear. The staging was simple, but there was an alien elegance to it—no scenery, no props save for painted markings across the actors’ carapaces, yet every gesture was deliberate, every movement sharp and expressive.

Vicky leaned forward, entranced despite herself. It wasn’t the grand theatre of her hometown with its swelling music and velvet curtains, but there was something endearing in the rawness of it.

And then came the actress playing Chrysanthemum.

Vicky had to stifle a laugh behind her hand. The performance was regal, stately, every word dripping with gravitas and terrifying authority. A queen of steel and shadow, not to be trifled with. Which would have been convincing—if Vicky hadn’t seen the real Chrysanthemum curled up like a massive cat in her blankets, antennae twitching as she purred happily under Mera’s scratches just days before.

She glanced at Mera, who was already hiding a smile of her own. The two shared a look, the kind of private joke that didn’t need to be spoken, and turned back to the stage with quiet amusement.

As the play droned on, Vicky decided she’d had enough of sitting politely beside Mera. She shifted her weight, shuffled just close enough for her scales to brush against cloth, then boldly draped an arm over the shorter woman’s shoulders. She tugged her in without hesitation.

Mera let out a startled little gasp, her back going rigid as if she’d been caught in some terrible impropriety. For a heartbeat Vicky thought she might pull away—until Mera’s breath softened, her shoulders sank, and she leaned into the embrace like she’d been waiting for it all along.

The swarm roared their strange applause when the play ended, pounding the stone with their limbs, a low rumble rolling through the cavern. Some hissed in what Vicky had learned was approval, others clattered their mandibles in chorus. To her, it was less moving art and more cultural curiosity; the “drama” had been flatter than week-old bread. Still, it clearly meant something to them. And that mattered.

“Well, that was… something,” Mera murmured as she fussed with the basket, her cheeks still pink.

“Yeah,” Vicky replied with a small laugh, stretching her tail lazily behind her. “Honestly, the way they portrayed Chrys was hilarious.”

“Chrys?” Mera blinked.

“A nickname. Thought I’d run it by her, see if she likes it. If not, no big deal.”

“O-oh. Yeah.” Mera fidgeted, her hands tightening on the basket’s handle. She opened her mouth like she might say more, then shut it again, staring at the floor.

Vicky knew that look. She’d seen it a dozen times before: the hesitance, the nerves, the silent please make the first move for me. Mera was young, green in matters of love, still stumbling through a world that had shifted overnight when Chrysanthemum tangled them all up together.

So Vicky squared herself in front of her, standing tall, tail curling with casual confidence. She tipped her head down, letting her eyes smolder the way she’d practiced to perfection in countless taverns across countless cities.

“Would you like me to kiss you?” she asked, her voice low, smooth, a challenge and an invitation in one.

“Uhm… maybe.”

Vicky tilted her head, her grin sharpening. “I need a yes, squishy cute one.” She deliberately used Chrysanthemum’s pet name, enjoying the way Mera’s face turned a deeper shade of red. Her voice softened, though, more serious beneath the teasing. “I don’t want to cross any lines you can’t handle. Plus, this is just the first date. Normally I don’t even think about kissing until the second or third… you know, after I’ve thoroughly spoiled them first.”

Mera looked like her heart was about to pound straight out of her chest. Her lips parted, closed, parted again. She gave a jerky nod, mumbling something that sounded like a drowned whisper, too faint to catch.

“Louder,” Vicky coaxed, her tail flicking behind her in lazy amusement, though her eyes never wavered from Mera’s.

The human’s hands twisted in her skirt, knuckles white. Finally, she squeaked out, “Y-yes please. You’re very pretty.”

Vicky’s grin gentled, the sharp edges fading into something warmer, more genuine. “That’s more like it.” She leaned down slowly, giving Mera every chance to change her mind, her voice dropping to a husky murmur. “And you’re adorable when you ask for it.”

Vicky didn’t rush. She bent lower, letting Mera feel her breath against her lips, giving her more than enough time to flinch away if she wanted to. The human didn’t move, though — except for the tiniest tremor in her shoulders, her wide green eyes locked on Vicky’s.

“Relax,” Vicky whispered, her voice a velvet purr. “It’s just me.”

Then she closed the distance.

The kiss was soft at first, just the press of lips, warm and careful. Mera froze like she’d been turned to stone, then melted all at once, leaning forward with a quiet sigh. Vicky smiled against her, deepening it only slightly, her claws brushing feather-light against Mera’s jaw as if to remind her she was wanted, cherished.

When they finally parted, Mera’s face was scarlet, her lips parted as though she’d forgotten how to breathe.

“Looks like I made you blush instead,” Vicky teased gently, her own cheeks faintly pink. Her tail flicked once, betraying her satisfaction.

“I-it’s not fair,” Mera stammered, still dazed. “You’re… too good at that.”

“Sweetheart,” Vicky chuckled, lowering her forehead to rest briefly against Mera’s, “that was just the first one. Wait until the second.”