“No. It’s – it’s fine. I don’t really care what they think of me. I know I’m not selfish or greedy or…” She hesitated, wincing perhaps, around the word. “… or a glutton. Plus, I can’t leave now. Ren will think they’re winning if I do.”
Yes, the bet.That’swhat was important. Unfortunately, no matter how fervently Ren attempted to remind themself of this fact, their thoughts slid right off it, down and down into the dark morass stoppering their throat.
Guilt. That’s what it was. Like a thicket of bramble, it had ensnared Ren completely, tiny barbs digging deeper everytime they tried to escape. But the truth, once acknowledged, could not be so easily discarded. It sat at the forefront of their mind, unmoved by the shifting of their thoughts.
You hurt her, it said, low and steady, as if fashioned from the earth itself.Unwilling to suffer the sting of your own shame, you turned that blade outwards instead. Gave it a new target, one even less deserving of the blame than you.
The admonishment registered with all the brutal clarity of a slap to the face, unflinching in its accuracy. As much as Ren wanted to deny it, they couldn’t. Because Pansy, for all her faults, her annoying habits and occasional thoughtlessness, was not a monster or a villain. In fact, she wasn’t even a bad person, merely flawed in the way all people were. And Ren – Ren, unfortunately, owed her an apology.
The realization sat heavy in their gut as they waited for Pansy and Blossom to finish exchanging their goodbyes – something that took far longer than it should have. By the time the front door finally clicked shut, Ren could’ve sworn an entire age had passed. They practically had to rouse themself, head jerking up as Pansy’s footsteps began to pad down the hall once more, keeping closely to one side. The sideoppositeto Ren.
So, she means to avoid me, they thought, ribcage squeezing tight around their heart.I shouldn’t be surprised.
Still, at the first sign of red hair, peeking around the corner in a familiar mess of curls, Ren called out to her. “I’m sorry about earlier,” they said, the unfamiliar words rolling across their tongue like rocks. “You didn’t deserve… I shouldn’t have taken my frustrations out on you like that.”You’re a person, not a punching bag.
For a moment, Pansy said nothing. She didn’t have to. Her expression alone spoke volumes, the tired lines framing her too-stiff mouth suggesting she’d rather swallow glass than havethis conversation.
Eventually, she let out a sigh and said, “I know I’m not perfect, Ren. Far from it, in fact. I let my excitement get the better of me today, and for that I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have taken your things without asking—”
“That’s not—” Ren clamped their jaw shut, words too vulnerable for present company – or any company, really – itching across their tongue. At last, they managed a strangled, “You’re allowed to drink my tea. I don’t mind.”
Pansy eyed them warily, her disbelief plain to see. “If you’re certain… But I do want to point out that I’m trying very hard to leave the old prejudices of my village behind. I only wish you’d afford me the same courtesy. Why can’t we just be ‘Pansy and Ren’ instead of monoliths of our respective heritages? It’s rather exhausting being the be-all and end-all of halflings and goblins, don’t you think?”
“It is,” Ren agreed, their voice barely more than a low murmur.
“Also,” Pansy continued, her expression softening around a small, self-deprecating smile, “I’m a very poor example of a halfling.” Then, as if to underscore her point, she kicked off her slippers and padded into the room, letting out a tiny sigh of satisfaction as the bare soles of her feet dragged across the soft tunnel moss Ren had so painstakingly laid down.
Well, so much for that plan…
“You know, this is really quite nice,” Pansy remarked as she settled into the old, halfling-style armchair, her toes pointedly curling into the bed of green beneath it. “Saves me the trouble of lugging some more rugs from Haverow. I’ve already cleared out the few that were put away here in storage.”
“Of course I end up living with the only halfling who enjoysmoss,” Ren said with a sigh, their shoulders slumping a little in defeat. “Are you sure you wouldn’t prefer a goblin cave, too?” As inconvenient as it was to see their plan so thoroughly foiled, they couldn’t deny that the eccentricities that made Pansy a “poor example of a halfling”, as she’d put it, were actually rather sweet. Hence why they found themself smiling despite it all – though only a little.
Pansy shrugged. “I’ve already embraced goblin ingredients, so why not goblin houseware, too? Speaking of, is that a real mushroom?” She pointed at it, positioned so that it could serve as an ottoman.
“No, it’s dark goblin magic,” Ren said, utterly deadpan.
Pansy paused for a moment, her eyes blowing wide. Then her expression collapsed, features flattening into an unhappy scowl. “You’re making fun of me.”
“Yes,” Ren agreed. “It’s obviously a real mushroom.”
“Maybe to you. But I’ve never seen one that large. I—Eek!” Pansy scrambled out of the chair with a high-pitched squeal, nearly sending the log table spiraling onto the floor in her haste to escape… a trio of mice.
The snort that left Ren quickly devolved into a full-on laugh, the kind that left them folded in two, with their arms clutching their sides. Pansy, meanwhile, was not nearly so amused, given the sharp look she shot them. However, she didn’t bother chastising Ren for it; no doubt she thought that a lost cause. She gestured towards Mushroom, who’d finally reappeared, settling atop the mushroom ottoman in a fitting display of his name. “Don’t just go to sleep!” she cried. “Get them! You’re a cat, aren’t you?”
By the time Mushroom managed to open one sleepy eye, the mice were long gone, having vanished into the bowels ofthe cottage via some dark crevice. Not that it really mattered. Mushroom only got up long enough to turn around and resettle – this time, with his butt facing Pansy.
“Ugh. You’re really useless, aren’t you? Cute, but ultimately useless.” She sighed, shaking her head. “I guess I’ll need to chase them out myself…”
“It’s their home, you know,” Ren said, having finally managed to snatch some semblance of composure amid their aching sides. “But you’re right. They deserve better than an ugly old chair.”
“It’s notugly,” Pansy protested, seemingly offended on the chair’s behalf. “Just because you hate color—”
“I don’t actually.”
“Any color other than brown, green or gray,” Pansy amended with a pointed look in their direction.
“I like red too,” Ren said before they could think better of it, their gaze drifting over to the curls framing either side of Pansy’s face.
