Lunch was eaten at Miss Mel’s costume cafe, a place his daughters had helped found. Thanks to his history, most of them tended to have a good intuition with money, but August always wanted to make sure they got to test the waters before casting out into the world. Early on, it had even been a case of killing two birds with one stone; since their town didn’t have an Otherworlders guild branch, they offered to let Mel come with them to the city, and made sure she felt welcome in the new world. Then one thing led to another, and now it was a family restaurant themed after an “American Diner” and costumes of fashion trends from a world without magic.
The food probably would’ve tasted better if it actually satiated his hunger though.
After some catching up, they headed home where Vayla could show off everything she’d learned from the temples. They moved to the backyard training area, which was just a wide rectangle of compacted dirt and an assortment of different targets, and a hedge row separating their property from the neighbor’s. The redhead had run ahead of them and was bouncing in place impatiently, smelling spicy and attention grabbing.
“Alright, which one of us wields you first?”
“Lyra! You’re a bit more blocky, sorry dad.” She explained.
Kyra postured with a smug smile, and August made a dramatic sniff as he wiped his eyes, “Is this what you call a teen rebellion phase? I should’ve known.”
“Yep, I’m gonna hang out with girls and get expelled from school, I’m a certified rapscallion!” Vayla proudly smiled.
“Attagirl.” August grinned.
“Wow, dad’s a really bad influence huh?” Lyra commented while walking over.
“Just horrible. No wonder we’re all infamous.” Vayla agreed and held out her hand.
August stepped back as Lyra grasped her sister’s arm, and the redhead’s body melted into a metallic white substance. The metaphysical liquid condensed like I was being sucked up toward her sister’s hand, compressing into a rigid silhouette and snapping into place. The white faded to reveal a short sword that could almost be called a dagger with its length, with a bright red stripe down the middle, and a completely covered tip, making it look like an arrow.
Lyra pointed the sword at the floor, and August jolted, looking down to see the dirt was too sandy, which was dangerous because it meant uneven footing-
Holy shit. He looked back up and found the sword held up to his neck.
His hands itched for his notebook, but he would watch first to get all the details. Vayla’s ability was a subtle, but effective one; when the warrior points the sword in a direction, they redirect an opponent’s attention in that direction. From there, it was Vayla’s job to come up with reasons why that was suddenly the most interesting thing in the world, especially when the opponent already knew how it worked.
“You found a way to be interested in literal dirt. I’m seriously impressed, Vayla!” It sounded like a joke, but it was his honest feelings.
“Wow, you make it sound lamer than it already is!” Lyra joked.
A shimmering white outline of Vayla appeared on the weapon’s blade, as if it was catching the light. Her voice rang out with an odd metallic quality, almost as if talking into a pipe. “It’s actually surprisingly easy though. Pretty much everything is interesting, you just have to look at it the right way. Most of my training has been studying a bunch of different topics and reading the opponent to see what they’ll be more hooked on. Well, and testing…” She murmured the last part, giving off the scent of insecurity and conflict avoidance.
August’s dad senses sharpened. “You already have qualification!”
Anything to do with mind magic was monitored with extreme prejudice, even when someone was born with it or grows it naturally like Vayla. Which specific types are illegal or not depends on the place, but attention redirection of this nature in a combat setting specifically is free to use for either self-defense, training, or against enemies. But of course, people will always be idiots.
“It’s fine, it wasn’t that long. And pretty much everyone moved on after that except for a few assholes.”
Lyra held the blade and ran her thumb against the red line, smelling concerned and protective. “They shouldn’t interrogate you when you already have the papers, it’s just delving into discrimination at that point. Are you sure you have to stay with these temple guys?”
Vayla just shrugged and said “I just wanted to learn somewhere near enough to you guys,” and there was a sombre silence for a moment.
August walked up and placed his hand over Lyra’s at the hilt. “If you really think it’s worth it, even after figuring out your situation with Anya, it’s your decision. Just make sure that you’re not trading short-term comfort for long-term happiness.”
He chuckled and patted the handle, “And well, I’m sure Anya could provide you with plenty of comfort to make up for it.”
“Daaadd!!!” Vayla screeched, and the sword lit with a bright red glow.
Lyra’s eyes widened, and she suddenly twirled the blade and tossed it in the air. He knew it was a distraction, so he put all his focus into watching Lyra’s hands, which were forming into bladed claws. He raised his hands to defend, when a red blur shot past his head and embedded itself in the ground behind him.
He blinked, then laughed heartily. “Damn, am I losing my touch? Did I seriously not pay attention to you when you just indicated that you were about to move?” Vayla’s desire to impress had intensified, so he tried to play it up a little without being too indulging.
“Nope, I made you forget with the power of mis-die-recteyong!”
“Misty erection?” Lyra parroted.
“No!”
With that, the demonstration continued with Vayla showing off all the new tricks she’d come up with. Twirling the sword to point attention to the weirder was something August smacked his head for not coming up with on his own, and it completely altered her style of fighting. She explained the new moves to Lyra one by one, and with their strong resonance and Lyra’s experience, she was able to convey the basics well enough. It looked so impractical and flashy, but it ended up working anyway.
When August had trained her to use her powers, he had always used her as either a distraction to help the frontline fighters, or to draw attention to herself and equip some type of shield in the offhand. A pure offensive like this had never crossed his mind, and he tested it out against the various defective -and blunted- enchanted weapons discarded in the training shed. Holding a larger shield against her was still the most effective, as the length advantage of two handed swords usually wasn’t worth it when it took every ounce of willpower to properly block. The extra strength from two hands was also countered when Lyra swiped in the same direction Vayla wanted to move, adding both their strength together, but in a real situation the opponent might also be wielding a Living weapon.
The best counter was to go for an almost blind cut as soon as you found your attention wandering, which could sometimes catch them with the sword pointing away in a bad position. Even that could be a mistake if predicted though, and if Lyra used Vayla with a buckler, he was put on the back foot easily. Even alone though, most matches became a comedic mismatch of the longsword user put on the backfoot from the shortsword.
The testing session continued into the afternoon, trying out different things and strategies against the wide variety of weapons and enchantments August had experience with. Lyra ended up weilding a buckler in her offhand as the most optimal, as they’d predicted, but keeping the hand free for grabbing, clawing, or stabbing was effective too.
It was fun and fulfilling, but of course, all good things must come to an end. August entered the bathroom with an hour to spare and the unyielding determination to not look like a dead man drenched in sweat in front of Asra. His hair was a lost cause, a wild mess that he did his best to wash -especially because soot stuck to it- but the tangles and knots were probably tougher than some monsters out there. His washcloth turned black, and in the shower he scrubbed at his skin with the rough worker’s soap until it was red.
For his blackheads he had a rune-engraved tool that looked like a tiny metal loop, and he braved the mirror to press it around all of the dots on his face. The tool attracted to the dirt in the pores with a touch of mana, and pulled it away easily, if painfully, removing everything that shouldn’t be there. Flipping it around to the other end sealed up the skin and lowered the chance of scarring. And finally, a little application of glamor makeup to get rid of the pesky bags under his eyes.
The whole process made his stomach churn and his skin crawl, but he never failed to do it for Asra, and if he just focused on the task it was a bit easier. Like doing it to someone else.
Finally exiting the bathroom in some of his fancier clothes after about fifty minutes, he was immediately met with Lyra holding a rune-inscribed cone. Her look was incredibly smug, with a single raised eyebrow at my significantly improved appearance.
“Don’t be like that! We just haven’t eaten out in a while…” He murmured and looked away, grabbing his neck.
“Mhm. We’ll come here and let me take care of that rat’s nest; I got this baby from Vayla’s bag, and I think it might work for you.”
Surprisingly, it did. He sat down in a chair while his eldest worked to quickly tease out as many clumps and snags as she could. Vayla worked together with her using a normal comb, and the difference was very clearly felt.
“Ow! Okay okay, maybe you should use the better comb, Vayla?”
“Oi, I’m just as good as Lyra, I'll have you know! It’s just the comb that’s different, you got that!?”
It took some arguing, but he did eventually get them to swap, and the experience was a much less painful one from then on. Even with the addition of Vayla, he couldn’t help but feel nostalgic. After the chaotic first year of taking care of the shop on his own, when August finally felt ready to try creating a Living Blade again, and it succeeded, he was so happy that he cried his eyes out. He was nearly free from the oppressive loneliness of an empty house. It was instead replaced with a near-crippling fear of fucking up what was essentially a teenage kid, questioning his every move and overanalyzing every way his own insecurity might project onto her while looking to other parents for advice.
The only thing that saved him from becoming an overprotective helicopter parent was the fact that he needed her to help work and put more food on the table. He still fucked up in the end, trying to keep her home for too long because he was an idiot love-starved demonic teenager, but at least he taught her to be as self sufficient as possible with the skills he’d had to learn for himself. And then there was the wide variety of things he didn’t teach her at all, where she actually ended up picking some slack in an area he hadn’t noticed.
Where was he going with this? Right, brushing hair. It used to be something that made him feel awkward, a kid brushing their parent’s hair, and sometimes made her feel more like a little sister. Now he looked at the moments fondly, and enjoyed it as one of the last activities left in his life where he could just sit back, close his eyes, and relax. Vayla almost thought he’d fallen asleep by the end of it, and he wasn’t actually too far off.
And then the door knocked, and all traces of sleepiness vanished under a sudden bout of anxiety. He hugged the kids goodbye and walked to the door, bag in hand. Each step forward felt clumsy, as if he was suddenly controlling every movement manually. He was half sure he would fall over by accident as he stood there in front of the door, taking deep breaths.
Fuck it. He reached out and swung open the door.
