"Smut...?" He tests the word on his tongue, like he's practicing a magic word for the first time. "Smut..."

Why wouldn't he be allowed to read it now...? It must be some sort of advanced magic! She's right; Cashmere probably isn't ready to learn it yet... but surely he can look at it, right?

Cashmere's just about to plead with Cirice, to allow him to delve into the magical world of smut! But Cirice (wisely) changes the subject to something that Cashmere is equally excited for -- the magic the she promised him in the first place. And in a moment's notice, his desperation turns to radiant excitement.

"Oooh! Yes please!" Shooting up from under the kotatsu, he stands tall, arms outstretched in either direction, stance wide and eyes closed. "I'm ready... It won't hurt, right?"

“Not at all, not at all!” Cirice reassures him with a laugh. “Its a feeling of joy and jolliness, remember? Open your eyes so you can see what I do, okay?”

She slides off her glove from her right hand and shows him the shimmery arcane tattoo in a strange sigil on her wrist. It hurt a little if you look at it too long, but its shimmery like its full of mana. It begins to glow softly lavender, deepening to a darker shade.

“You have to touch someone and just think about how you want them to feel. Happy and jolly.” She gently pokes his nose playfully and the spell washes over him in a cool wave¹.

---

1 Be Jolly (you can describe how Cash feels under the effect)

Cashmere stands awkwardly, with a little smile that combines a bit of nervousness with a lot of excitement. Eyes closed, he doesn't see the tattoos; he only makes the slightest gasp at the sound of Cirice's silk gloves sliding off. All is silent but the excitement rushing through Cashmere's own mind, until...

boop

A tap of a finger on his little nose. And a coldness washes over him, like a breeze over a grassy field. But then... nothing. The feeling is gone as quickly as it came.

Slowly, Cashmere opens his eye, wondering why nothing happened. Had Cirice somehow messed up the spell? Or maybe...

"Oooohh! I get it!" A smile curls across his face as he points at Cirice. "It was a trick! You didn't really have a spell to teach me at all!"

Maybe he should be angry, or at least disappointed. But instead, he finds it hilarious! All that buildup, and it just a trick to get him to close his eyes so she could boop his nose! Laughter rumbles in his chest, escaping in a crescendoing onslaught.

"Silly Cirice!" he manages between guffaws. "You coulda just *asked* me if you wanted to boop my nose!"

His laughter only grows in intensity, every chortle more gleeful than the last, to the point that he's gripping his stomach. It's one of the absolute funniest things he's ever experienced. It swiftly reaches a point that tears are streaming down his cheek, and he seems about ready to pass out!

But eventually, the chortles slow. His giggles fade, and he's left to regain his breath after what was a truly epic bout of laughter. And then he opens his eye, and looks warmly at Cirice. She really is amazing; an amazing mage, an amazing sister, an amazing person... Cashmere hopes to be like her, someday. But for now, just having her here is enough.

He steps forward, and wraps her arms around her in a soft, calm embrace.

"I love you, big sis Cirice."

Rubbing his cheek against the silk of her blouse, Cashmere feels like he's in heaven. Cirice is so warm... He hopes she'll be his big sister forever, even once he gets adopted. On not just her, but Cypress and Cyran, and Astrid too. And he wants them to be happy as well. He just hopes that he can make them happy and proud, to have them feel the warmth that he's feeling right now. And as he holds her close, and wishes dearly, a little bit of that warmth glows within and through his arms, washing over Cirice like a gentle wave^[1]...

---

1. Be Jolly

Cirice isn’t sure what he means about the spell having no effect, she feels it take hold of him as he teases her and starts laughing.

“No it worked, you’re just not feeling any different because you’re already so jolly!” Cirice giggles along with him, “Of course I love booping your nose! Its the cutest nose in the whole world!”

She watches him as he laughs himself out, happy that he’s having such a wonderful time. He embraces her and she hugs him back gently.

“I love you too Cashmere, you’re the cutest, most wonderful, little witch and little brother in all the world!”

The warmth washes over her, a giddy feeling taking hold as her smile widens and a fit of joyful laughter takes hold of her heart. She pulls him backwards with her, still holding him tight in her arms, for them to lounge in the sea of pillows.

“You did it Cash!” She laughs, “You cast it on me! When you’re already happy it makes you laugh!”

She nuzzles her cheek into the top of his head, knocking his hat off with a laughs and just snuggling him lovingly.

“What a truly great witch, you learned the spell after just feeling it once! You’re so so talented! I’m so proud of you!”

Cashmere's smile is beaming, like a shard of glass glinting in the sunlight that is Cirice's praise.

"I did it??" His voice is full of surprise, but it's like a blurry shape in the haze of the morning sun. Absolute elation eclipses it all, and this can't be altogether blamed on the spell. "I did it!! Oh my goodness, thank you big sis!"

Held and twirled in Cirice's loving arms, Cashmere is like a bundle of manifested joy. At one point, his witch hat flies off his head and slowly floats down onto Ars' book-head, but he doesn't care so long as he's here.

Eventually, both of them are simply laughing on the ground, giggling sillily. From the outside of the wagon, only that laughter and the occasional patting of Hitia's hooves on the soil can be heard. And if anyone were to so much as peek inside, there wouldn't be any hint of what is causing such commotion; merely two people, a human child and a moon elf acting very much like a child, lying on the floor with their limbs splayed out and chortling the evening hours away. It is the very image of simple, pure joy, without reason and without even the desire for reason. It is easy, and it asks nothing: selfless joy.

But all such things come to an end. And this is good; if it did not, it would not be special. After a while of laughter and mirth, Cashmere feels himself coming off of the spell. The heaving of his chest becomes less sporadic as he's left taking deep, deep breaths. It's a gradual recovery, from such a bout of giggles.

Joyful tears still shimmering at the edge of his eye, Cashmere slowly turns his head to see Cirice, who's still very much under the influence.

He slowly rolls over, snuggling into her side. But his expression suddenly seems more solemn.

"Cirice... are you always gonna be my big sis?" His voice, damaged by the endless laughter, is a mere crackle.

Cirice wraps her arms around him tightly, giggling and ruffling his hair.

“Forever and ever Cash!” She promises, sealing it with a kiss on his forehead.

The effects of the spell are still in her system but she’d agree under normal circumstances with the same amount of fervor. She had always wanted a sibling, but in elven families that could mean waiting a century to have another child. Thanks to Cyran she’d been introduced to these wonderful children and she wanted nothing more to be the best big sister to them she could. Especially Cashmere. His pure and unlimited love of magic gives her such joy and motivates her to learn more so she can teach it to him. One day she knows he’ll be one of the greatest mages of all time and she wants to help him achieve that dream.

“Cashmere one day I’ll take you and Cypress to meet my parents, you'll love Shinegetsu! You’ll always have a home with me right here in my wagon, I'll take you wherever you want to go!”

A home... always...

Cirice's words are like a song that Cashmere wants to listen to forever. He can still remember those days on the streets of Sol City, where him and Cypress suffered a day-by-day life in which shelter was a privilege and safety was a luxury. He still remembers how scared he was; every day, even in those moments of happiness, the fear was there. It was so difficult to find any comfort. It was so difficult to sleep.

But here... they're safe. As long as him and Cypress are here, they'll always have a roof above their heads, and they'll always have people to protect them. They won't need fire for warmth -- not when they have...

...

His movements slow into stillness, leaving only his breath and the steady rises and falls of his chest. His eye's fluttered closed, and he lays peacefully in Cirice's arms. He's out like a torch.

The jolliness of Cashmere’s spell gradually fades from Cirice’s mind and she’s left with a general sense of contentment as they lay under the kotatsu together. Cashmere slowly drifts to sleep in her arms as she pets his hair. She wishes she has her shamisen to play him a lullaby to give him good dreams…

Wait. She has a spell for that!

She smiles to herself and gently sweeps Cash’s hair to the side away from his eye. She wonders what the story behind the bandage is and is haunted by her own memories of eye loss… No, no, mustn’t let herself get upset or she’d give him nightmares. She looks into his cherubic face, so soft and innocent and peaceful. He only deserves the best dreams she can give him. His life was hard before, like Iryla’s, but unlike Iryla she can help him before he gets too jaded and world-worn. She won’t let anyone else she cares about feel that self-depricating at all.

The runes on her arms begin to glow softly violet and she lays her head against Cashmere’s in the nest of pillows and blankets and drifts off herself into his dream…

Silence, total and unbroken. An empty blackness, where even the skin is depraved of any feeling -- nothing but cold. It's like the realm that held Ziev, during that fateful encounter. It's vast and nonexistent, like floating in space. But when one opens their eyes...

Stars. An infinite sky of twinkling stars. Some shine brighter, some shine grander, but every one of them shines. But they aren't the little pinpoints of the waking night's sky; they're five-pointed depictions, like those woven into Cashmere's blanket and pillows. It's like a sky hewn from all of youth's misconceptions -- all of youth's wonderful, sparkling, nostalgic misconceptions. It isn't black, but an oceanic blue, and the constellations are like a chart of cosmic isles, far across the open star-sea. But they're so far away...

But where's Cashmere?

The thought itself seems to ripple through the dreamscape, transforming the environment as constellations curve across the sky. The stars seem to grow closer -- so close that they can almost be touched. But they keep their distance, forming a dome that surrounds a platform of hovering stone. And they stare down upon the platform; suddenly, they don't seem so nostalgic...

There he is. In the middle of the platform, Cashmere stands with his head hung low. He looks to be almost on the verge of tears as he averts his gaze from the countless stars that look down upon him. He isn't wearing his hat.

A trail of stars leads up, up and onto the platform where Cashmere stands. Those glimmering lights hover, shining so bright that they're almost blinding.

Cirice stares up at this fanciful sky and wonders what it might mean. She sees Cashmere all alone under the blinding lights and not looking like his usual happy self and she starts towards him. The sky is full of stylized stars, bright and shining harshly, but no moon. As she walks towards him Cirice brings her hands together and slowly opens them as a soft lavender moon made of gentle light materializes above her palms. It floats there for a moment before shooting up into the sky and goes to float above Cashmere, bathing him is a softer light¹.



“Cashmere?” She says softly, coming up to him and kneeling at his feet to meet his downturned eye with a gentle smile. “Why are you looking down? Here you are surrounded by so many bright and shiny stars... Don’t you know that you’re the brightest star of all?”

---

1 North Star

He doesn't answer. Even bathed in the gentle moonlight and stood face-to-face with Cirice's gentle, violet gaze. He only stands, shoulders shrugged high and arms clung tight to his sides, eye shut tightly as he struggles to halt sob after another. There are tears forming at the corner of his eye, even as he struggles vainly to keep it from falling down his cheek. It's hard to tell if the boy is dejected, terrified, or something in-between. Can he hear her? If he did, would he answer? Is he simply waiting?

If he is waiting, then it's that apprehense-begetting sound that Cirice hears before so much as a word would escape Cashmere's lips. From behind Cirice reverberates a celestial groan, like the clanging of a wind-chime in a river. The moonlight bathes the area and warms it -- but it also casts a shadow. The deep, blue-lit sky is eclipsed by a silhouette, tall and wide. It looms, shrouded by blackened robes that are dotted with pinpoints of light like the night sky itself, hiding its presence before. But here, where there is just enough light; a singular, celestial eye gleams beneath of hood of twilight, leering down.

As slowly as the sky's own revolution, it encroaches, a serpentine neck slithering beneath midnight's fabric. These stars, shining so bright... they're the same stars. And yet their shine does not seem so hopeful -- not with the indignance with which they now look down upon Cirice and the little witch she protects.

Crestfallen appears in Cirice’s hand in a flash of violet light. She moves to make sure her body is covering all of Cashmere as the creature pogresses, slowly and deliberately, their way. Was this a figment of Cashmere’s subconscious? His doubt and fear and anxiety made manifest? Or was it some monster that had wormed it’s way in?

“Stop.” Cirice commands. The creature freezes, staring at her with its eerie starred eye. She glances back at Cashmere, frozen in his tearful sobbing. Whatever this was she couldn’t let it hurt him.

She steps forward, her sword held loosely at her side in one hand with the other outstretched. Whatever the nature of this beast she wasn’t going to blindly attack it, but she wasn’t going to let it continue looming there over her beloved little brother.

The creature flinches back as her hand touches its head gently. “Shhh, its okay. Be still.”

The runes under her gloves begin to glow with soft lavender light and she closes her eyes, seeking the truth in the darkness¹.

---

1 reveal truth

Even in this place of nebulous fiction, Cirice's seeing-mana draws truth out of the entity that now bows obediently before her. A a slough of murky, tenebrous memories writhe before her, like reflections in a river of oil. The stars blink out -- one, then two, then four, then ten, until there is only one star that gleams in the murky image. In shines as the face of a figure, looking down from atop a podium...

Even through this reflection, Cirice can feel the judgement -- or rather, the feeling of being judged. Though it is focused upon the figure, it ultimately comes from within -- from Cashmere -- as he looks up to this shrewd, yet indomitable man. The star glows so brightly, yet so terribly at once.

Cashmere never learned their name. He only knew that they were his judge. And as he stepped onto that dais of weightless stone, and as they commanded him to begin his demonstration, and as he failed to draw even a fleck of his mana into any meaningful magick, he knew that he had failed. "Denied." the judge said. And little Cashmere stood and cried, as he now does before Cirice, as he believed that he would never be allowed into the Arcane Academy of which he'd dreamt for so long. He would forever watch those gleaming students from afar -- a little dreamer, gazing at a sky full of stars. And no matter for how long or how earnestly he wished upon them, he would only be here...

The platform is gone. Suddenly, Cirice is stood on the side of a hill, beneath a distant, starlit sky. There are trees all around, but none to obscure the sky above. Atop the hill stands Cashmere, staring up at the sky, tears streaming down his cheek.

The weight of judgement, of failure, of despair fall upon Cirice’s shoulders as she watches the verdict come down.

“Denied.”

Such finality, such careless frivolity with the feelings of a young and aspiring mage. Cirice burned the image of the nameless judge into her mind, vowing silently to have words with him next time she’s at the academy. She turns to Cashmere and they’re on the side of a hill, his tears rolling down his face as he stares up at the sky. She slowly walks over to him and sits at his side, a gentle comforting presence.


“You know…” She says softly, “I never went to the Academy… I didn’t even know about it really until I went there. It always seemed like a far-off place that I couldn’t reach. A dream that someone told me about. But Mother Moon taught me magic instead, she showed me that you don’t need others to think you’re powerful, you only have to believe in yourself and work hard to know that you truly are.”


She reaches up and takes his hand in hers gently. “You don’t have to have fancy training to be a great and powerful mage, you have the potential inside you, you just need to learn in your own way. I’ll help you however I can.”

He looks at her hand, clasping over his so gently. There's no resistance in him; his hand is as limp as a fresh corpse's. The starlight and moonlight only glistens on the tears on his face...

Silence. He doesn't answer -- not for a long while. He stares at her hand, with his golden eye, only to turn that same attention back to the sky. And then he raises his other hand and points. It's difficult to see, in a sky so crowded with stars, but he is pointing at one of them -- one paired with another.

And then he speaks in a soft, broken voice.

"I named that one after you." he says. There's none of that youthful exuberance in his voice. Just the tracks that sorrow left. "You're so amazing... If you'd tried, I know you would've gotten into the academy. But I... I failed. I'm a failure."