The next morning, Warwick stretches awake well after dawn, woken from peaceful slumber by light twinkling in through the window. The thick blankets and soft bed are enough to keep him marvelously warm, so for a moment before sitting up he simply turns his head and watches the snow fall outside.
Wait. Priscylla’s guest bedroom is in the basement. It doesn’t have a window.
Warwick snaps bolt upright, looking from side to side. A good-sized room with a view. A dresser opposite the bed with a few black hats arranged on a rack. Rocannon the dog curled up in a lump beside the closet. A queen-sized bed he’s sitting in, with an empty pillow next to his head.
What in the Four Corners happened last night? Didn’t he get drunk? Shouldn’t he have a hangover?
One issue at a time, first off. Before anything else, he needs to find Priscylla and apologize to her, both for the things he can and can’t recall. He slips out of bed, letting out a sigh of relief when he realizes he’s still wearing his clothes from yesterday. It’s still a crisis, of course, but at least he doesn’t need to start panicking yet.
Upon stepping out into the living room, he realizes he must have overslept something fierce– judging from where he can see the sun through the window, it must be ten bells, maybe even eleven. He nearly slept through the entire morning– and needed it, he reminds himself.
Mrs. Falk looks up from her sheet of word puzzles and waves, gesturing to a plate of very cold eggs and toast on the counter. She then jerks a thumb in the direction of the stairs, leaving Wick to scarf down brunch and scuttle downstairs with a quick “Thanks!”
Sure enough, there Priscylla is, seated at her desk but turned around to watch Wick clatter down into her lab with a bemused smile. As he steps forward, she lifts a finger. “No crumbs on the sigil.” With a start, Warwick realizes she’s already drawn out the full rune to carry out his summoning.
“Right,” Warwick mumbles, before shoving the last of his toast into his mouth and swallowing quickly. “Do you– are we alright?”
Priscylla purses her lips a bit, still idly turning a fist-sized crystal over in her hand. “Can you be more specific?”
No point in subtlety. “What happened last night?” Wick asks, mentally preparing a litany of apologies. “Why was I in your…”
Immediately, Priscylla’s withdrawn posture vanishes as she bursts into a fit of giggles. “Oh, that? You don’t remember?”
“No,” Warwick replies, before realizing she’s laughing with him rather than at him. “It wasn’t bad, was it? I don’t want you to think of me as, well.”
“Have no fear, hero,” Priscylla snorts, “Your honored chastity is intact.”
“Hey.”
“Am I wrong?” Scylla asks, grinning like a shark when Warwick hesitates. “Anyway,” she continues, “All that happened is we were both too tipsy to want to try and risk you taking the flight of stairs to the guest bedroom. You wanted to take the couch, but I told you it was too cold, and rightly so. We marked off half my bed, and you were asleep before I could even turn out the lamps.” She finishes the story by gesturing at him with her crystal. “You really needed your beauty sleep.”
“Still could use another bell or so,” Warwick says under his breath. “Still, I wasn’t expecting to see you in such high spirits,” he continues at a normal volume. “If I recall, you drank just as much as I did.”
“Probably,” Priscylla says with a shrug, “But I know my limits better. That, or I’m just riding the high of everything else that happened last night.”
“Oh, with Jasper?” Warwick takes a seat beside her at the desk, eyeing the vials upon vials of concentrated fluids. “You should be! I remember saying that you handled that one well.”
“Oh, you made it very clear you were proud of me,” Priscylla notes with a wink that could melt glaciers. “And let me make it clear in turn that I’m still a bit upset with you for overstepping. But, even so, It’s… nice, having a reminder that I actually know what I’m doing. That I’m a better person than I fear I am.”
Warwick nods solemnly to himself. “Is this about the Inquisition?”
“What? No, why would you…” Priscylla bristles, before taking a moment to compose herself, knuckles going white from squeezing her crystal as she takes a deep breath. “Right. You didn’t know. I suppose it can be about the Inquisition, if you want. Not that complex a story.”
Warwick forces down the urge to hold her close. “Only if you’re comfortable with that. I would like to know, though. Did they try to go over my head?”
“Yes and no.” Scylla pauses, gently brushing frost off her fingertips. “Well, yes but with emphasis on ‘tried’. They wanted to just put a bounty on my head without telling anyone, but apparently someone–” She nudges Warwick with her shoulder playfully– “Made so many glowing reports that they weren’t actually able to go through with it.” She laughs softly to herself, pressing the pad of her thumb into her crystal’s edges. “I suppose I should thank you for saving my life.”
Warwick chuckles back, lifting his arm to show the looping rune inscribed there. “Thanks for saving mine.” Nearly ten full years since Priscylla carried out the rituals, and not a fortnight goes by without Warwick thanking his lucky stars for her.
“Oh, spectacular!” Immediately, Scylla sets down the crystal, grabbing Warwick’s arm with both hands, twisting it to and fro. “You’re healing even better than I had hoped for. The magic should be stabilized in a tenday at most.”
“Great,” Warwick breathes, trying not to dwell on how it feels to get handled by Priscylla’s cool fingertips.
“Anyway,” she says, letting go of him apparently without realizing the intimacy of her touching, “I think it’s high time we got moving. It’s already almost midday, I’d hate to deny you your Solstice gift any longer.” In a smooth motion, she picks up the crystal and sweeps to her feet, showing off her nicest, sparkliest white dress. “Do you have the remains?”
“Right. Right.” Warwick fidgets with his pockets before pulling out a locket full of ash. “I trust you to the ends of the earth, obviously, but are you sure this will work?”
“Positive,” Priscylla scoffs. “There’s nothing magic loves more than the rule of three. Mrs. Falk was a mixed failure, my parents were a mixed success, this ritual’s bound by every rule of probability and impossibility to work.”
“Wait, hold your horses.” Warwick pauses as he sprinkles his mother’s ashes. “You used your parents as a test run for summoning my mom? That’s hardly fair, we should have done my summoning first.”
“Fiends, really? Plug your bleeding heart for a second,” Priscylla groans as she places the crystal. “I got everything I wanted and then some. You’re taking nothing away from me. If anything, it annoys me when you insist I’m more important than you.”
Warwick forces down the temptation to insist she is, instead focusing on spreading the remains. “Alright, I think I’m set and ready from my side. What do we do now?”
“This,” Priscylla says, stamping her heel down on the crystal.
“H-hi, mom. Happy Solstice.”
“Oh! Sweetheart, is that you? You look so… rugged! So handsome! What happened?”
“Just… I just like things better this way. It’s, uh, Warwick now. Sorry if this is a lot at once, just… I missed you.”
“Well, I missed you too, Warwick. Can’t say I follow what’s going on, but I trust you know well enough for the both of us. Where did you get the name? It’s a bit unusual, isn’t it?”
“I tried to tell him.”
“You stay out of this one, Scylla. It’s a good name. Alliterates with Wheelwright.”
“Oh, you kept my maiden name? I’m assuming things with your father only got worse, then?”
“Pretty much, yeah. I’m sorry I couldn’t… help.”
“It’s okay, sweetheart. I’ll just say you look like the man he should have been and leave it at that.”
“I– oh. Thank you.”
“But where are my manners! Hello, miss, I don’t think we’ve met– Soleil Wheelwright, but call me Solly.”
“Lovely to meet you, Solly. I’m Priscylla Tinton, the mage behind this reanimation ritual.”
“Reanimation, huh? So I did cark it after all. I’m not gonna have to start paying taxes again, am I?”
“Mom, why is that the first thing you think about?”
“Don’t worry, you’re only going to have to stick around for about a half bell. Wick here just wanted to introduce himself and tell you how he’s been.”
“Oh, so it’s Wick to you, hm? I was hoping you two were together!”
“We are?”
“Oh, gods above. No, mom, we’re not together.”
“Aw, we’re not?”
“Put a lid on it, Scylla, you’re not helping. No, we’re not an item, we’re just very good friends.”
“Oh. Huh. Then what’s with the matching tattoos? I kind of assumed they were, y’know. A romantic kind of thing.”
“What, these? No, no, they’re magic. Part of the reason I look the way I do now.”
“Oh, I see. Sorry, sweetheart, not trying to be rude. But, Priscylla, does that mean that you’re also…”
“I am, and I’m trusting you to be calm about it because you’re Wick’s mother.”
“Oh, no disrespect meant, Priscylla! I was just going to say, there must be magic involved if my son is spending time with such pretty girls.”
“Mom.”
“No, no, please, do go on, Mrs. Wheelwright.”
“Miss is fine, dear. And you said you were a mage? You must have a pretty comfortable nest egg saved up.”
“Mom.”
“What? I’m just concerned about your well-being! You need a fallback plan if the wandering hero business doesn’t work out.”
“It is working out, mom, I was trying to tell you. I’ve saved like three or four towns from demolition, at this point. They call me the Savior of Toch.”
“Oh. Oh! I didn’t actually– Sweetheart, I am so proud of you!”
“He also goes by the Harvestide Hero. Or the Sinker of Serpents. Or the Spiller of Mail.”
“Warwick, sweetheart, I’m so glad that it worked out. Wait, what was that last one?”
“I flipped over a mail cart.”
“With your bare hands?”
“No, with a donkey. Honest mistake. Let’s move on.”
“Alright, alright, I’ll stop roasting you in front of your mother. Here, Ms. Wheelwright, is it okay if I go get some snacks for Wick and I? You can’t eat like that, so I don’t want to be rude.”
“Go right ahead. It’s the solstice, right? I’d think we’re obligated to eat some cookies or maybe a poultry dinner.”
“Wick, are you okay? You’re crying.”
“I’m fine. I’m fine. I’m just… happy. To get to spend time with family like this. Grab the snacks, Scylla, we’ll be here.”
