WHEN WE ALL FALL ASLEEP, WHERE DO WE GO?
There was not a night in which she did not ask the genie to make her most trivial desires come true, and looked forward to having her wishes granted harboring childish expectation and wonder. If he did not make at least one of them happen, she learned that his kind had limitations to abide by and refused to complain about it. One night he made her leave the luxurious hotel room she was miraculously able to afford, for Zeale insisted that she get fresh air She had complained of suffering mild chest pains, and when they went away from the hotel he got a better look at her face. He only noticed her eyes were fully dilated when the lacrima-powered street lights cast their glow over her, and in them had been a lack of shame. He found that he pitied her and grimaced.
Her insides were feeling rawer than usual, to breathe hurt her poor lungs, but the euphoria was there to encourage her foolishness and provide an escape that endowed her spirit with creative and emotional energy. It would be brief. She admired the oriental architecture over which she had the pleasure of viewing, walking with her mystical escort side by side, his overall disposition calm and not quite matching with the extreme giddiness Vera exhibited. He knew her better than the closest of her companions because she wished for his silence, so of this, he would speak of to no one, and he watched her closely. Odd to say she was not truly happy. The act of making broken conversation and grinning madly seemed meaningless to him, she wasn’t even aware that his level of engagement had diminished.
Zeale went back to prioritizing her safety looking bored and tired but made no effort to shut her up, he even seemed to find more interest in the people passing them by than her self-assigned quest to speak his ear off. Surely he found she was more enjoyable when she wasn’t dabbling in the awful powder. There was less giggling and more tolerable humor. “Ugh, what is the matter with me? I’m looking for a little adventure, a little more of that kick. And, per usual, hey, time’s up and I’m feeling nothing, except for maybe the bugs crawling underneath my skin. I want to rip it off.”
“My condolences to your impaired judgment. Now all that is left is the craving, but I think it would be a waste of your life to continue looking for a high you’re never going to experience again. Ideally what you want is to go cold turkey before your body gives out. Accordingly, your health is getting progressively worse and it would be in your best interest to cease."
“I don't have time for your drama llama. What I am,” she scratched at her arms, a huge contradiction to her claim, “is having a good time. If things go downhill from here, I can just wish away my problems."
"Well, I wonder what your loved ones would think if they learned of your sins as a Rune Knight? And, yes, you might as well. But there are consequences that will be left pending in the universe with each wish I grant." He said, arms crossed over his chest. He felt his heartbeat quicken, and his red eyes bulge out of his skull. Here was the disappearance of a fool; here he was, an even bigger fool, for letting her out of his sight. Oh, goodness! He cried inwardly. Then he remembered he was an all-powerful Elemenie and could easily locate his present owner with just a snap of his fingers.
Vera looked as he once did, concerned and annoyed when he found her. There was not a person to be seen who wasn't running, and such a people were yelling warnings and pointing to safety, the topic of interest being pirates, which made Zeale forget his prominence and capability -- as well as his bravery. He erupted into a puff of smoke and chose to indulge in his cowardice, suspending his magic until further notice, and regarded Walden's feelings only after returning to the lamp. Vera looked down at once, and, rubbing the tiny lamp she had in her pocket, gasped loudly. Not because he refused to help her, but because the lamp's smooth surface revealed the truth so blatantly.
"I've seen more brains, spine, and balls in snails. Add this to your crap bucket of sins, Zeale. I'm not Rudolph, I'm not going to guide Santa back home with a white nose. Why didn't you tell me I had something on my face?!" Vera yelled, rubbing her nose with her sleeve. She brushed the remains off her red jumpsuit, momentarily forgetting Hosenka was under attack.
made bycapt. meows