Chapter 23

“That’s, uh,” Zoey said. “Are you sure that’s a good idea?”

“Your class, you mean.”

“Yeah. My class.”

“Don’t tell me you’re uncomfortable with the idea of ‘bonding’ another girl.” Seeing Rosalie, so typically stoic, air-quote and sneer the phrase was a bit funny. “You’ve fucked—how many girls in the past twenty four hours? Me, the slime creature, the attendant, and I saw you eying both Fe and Sabina. You aren’t remotely subtle. I’m surprised Anja was safe. This is where you draw the line?”

“No,” Zoey said, ignoring Rosalie’s accusations, “I meant, are we even sure I can bond to more than one person? Or would it break yours?”

“Only one way to find out, isn’t there?”

“I guess. I’m just—” she cut herself off.

“Say it.”

“Never mind.”

“Say it, Zoey.”

Zoey waved her hand, starting to blush. “It’s nothing.”

Rosalie stopped walking and crossed her arms. “If we’re going to be party-members, you will voice your opinion on team decisions.”

“I was looking forward to it just being us, okay?” Zoey flushed. “I thought we were going to, you know. Have some time together. Just us. For a bit longer.”

Whatever Rosalie had expected, it hadn’t been that. She looked like a deer caught in headlights, which was a distinctly not-Rosalie reaction.

“Like I said, it was stupid.”

“This—this isn’t a vacation, Zoey.”

“I know.”

“A functional party fills every role. We’ll get more done. And it’ll diffuse your lack of experience.”

“It makes sense. I know.”

Rosalie opened her mouth a few times, as if to push the point, but Zoey had agreed with everything.

She huffed and turned back forward.

“We’ll ... we’ll have ‘us’ time between shards,” Rosalie mumbled, almost quiet enough Zoey couldn’t hear.

“What?”

Rosalie stalked forward. “We’ll be looking for a guardian, striker, or another lancer. At this advancement, even a half-role support is enough—so you have that filled. I can fill either offense or defense, so I want a teammate specialized in one or the other. I’ll lean heavier into whatever they don’t.”

“Is that the standard strategy?”

“There is no standard strategy. Team composition isn’t a solved science. Opinions vary. I told you mine.”

“Well, yours is the best out there, I’m assuming.”

“Mmm,” Rosalie said, not outright agreeing, but both of them knowing it was true. “Still. It might take some searching to find a good fit.”

“Just one more? So three of us?”

“For now.”

“How big do parties get?”

“Five is ideal.”

“For all advancements? Now, or later on?”

“All advancements. But it’s a question with a lot of variability. I’m already generalizing. I was doing fine solo. Some classes can. Some classes—boosters, the obvious one—can’t. Five members provides a balance between sharing loot and tackling shards smaller parties can’t.”

“So why are we going with three?”

“Because five is a headache,” Rosalie said flatly. “Even two is a headache, so far.”

“Hey.”

“Are you denying it?”

Zoey had been an annoyance for Rosalie, all things considered. “It’s still not very nice.”

“I’m not very nice.”

“Bullshit,” Zoey said. “You’re a sweetheart.”

“And you have an addled brain, if you think that.”

“You’ve got a hard exterior, but gooey insides. You didn’t have me fooled for a second.”

Rosalie pointedly ignored her, but the blush on her cheeks betrayed how Zoey’s words had worked.

They arrived at the LFG board.

Zoey’s eyes scanned the hundreds of listings crammed on the expansive pinboard. The papers tacked in were short, functional, and informative. Standardized. Name, advancement, role, availability, and finally, a short description where they discussed what they were looking for, and any other relevant information.

Rosalie pulled out a notebook and started writing. “Girls only, right?” she asked.

“Uh, yeah.” Zoey hesitated before her next words, knowing they were stupid. But she couldn’t help herself. “This is weird. It feels like we’re looking for someone to have a threesome with.”

Rosalie went stiff. A disbelieving expression turned, slowly, to face her.

“Doesn’t it?” Zoey asked.

“Unbelievable,” Rosalie said.

Rosalie worked fast. She collected a smattering of potential candidates and got to work tracking them down. The guildhall receptionist helped point them in the right direction.

They barely got more than a few sentences into Rosalie’s first interrogation before Rosalie was shaking her head and stalking away. Zoey shot an apologetic look to a bewildered flame-woman.

“What the hell was that?” Zoey asked, jogging to catch up.

“Inadequate.”

“Why?”

“Second advancement in three months? No.”

“That’s bad?”

“It’s average.”

“ ... and average is bad.”

“Average is horrendous.”

“We can be that picky?”

“I’ll resort to a duo before we settle for a dead-end.”

Truth told, Zoey was feeling like the dead-end, right about now. She’d been pretty useless in the first shard, and without a chance to have practiced, she’d be useless going into the second. At least she had the ‘identify weakness’ skill from her second advancement on her Rune of Sensuality, so she could be marginally more helpful, but still. Her partner was quite clearly the creme de la crop, and Zoey was...

Zoey.

Promising only because she’d had an amazing class thrust onto her. Didn’t feel great.

“Still. I don’t think you should’ve been so rude.”

“We’re on a schedule. I’m not going to conduct a full interview when I know my answer.”

“You could’ve told her why.”

“That would have been rude. Better she think me odd, than for me to berate her for being average.”

That was ... actually a fair point. Rosalie was being considerate—in a roundabout way—by stalking away and not listing out a person’s deficiencies. And not even deficiencies, but simply how they failed to meet Rosalie’s excruciating expectations.

“Besides,” Rosalie said, “I’m not sure having sex with a solar is something you want to be doing on the regular.”

She tucked away the race name for the floating flame-people. “I mean,” Zoey said. “I’ll try anything once. Who knows? Maybe it’d be fun.”

“They don’t even have sex organs,” Rosalie said. “And yes, they’re as hot as they look.” She shook her head and stalked forward. “But knowing you, you would enjoy it.”

“Nothing a bit of burn cream couldn’t fix,” Zoey grinned.

The second, third, and fourth interviews—interrogations—went in a similar manner. It wasn’t until the fifth that Rosalie’s questions extended past opening pleasantries.

“And you?” the fox-woman—Delta—returned.

“Four weeks.”

Delta whistled. “Damn, blondie. You had your nose to the grindstone. That’s fast.”

Zoey stayed quiet, absorbing the easy lie that had slipped from Rosalie’s lips. She had told Zoey it had taken her two weeks to hit second advancement—or less, since two weeks was simply how long she’d been in the Fractures. And four was fast? Enough to draw out an impressed whistle from someone Rosalie herself saw as a potential teammate?

Her partner was more competent than she’d thought. Competent enough she needed to lie to avoid drawing attention. Well-known enough she gave fake names to guildhall receptionists.

Who was she, really?

Not that if she was some famous figure, Zoey would know the name. Alien world, and all.

“I set a quick pace,” Rosalie said. “You would be expected to match it.”

“Sure,” Delta returned easily. “Not tryna toil in obscurity, forever. I’m taking it you’re shooting for the big leagues?”

“I have no intention of living a safe and easy life.”

Delta laughed. “Right. So, shards. What advancement? Third? How many you putting together?”

“Second will be fine,” Rosalie said. “We’re staying small. You’ll be our third, and last.”

“And who’s this?”

“Zoey,” Zoey offered. She’d been trailing behind Rosalie for the better part of an hour, and she’d prefer to regain some agency, because as things stood, it felt a bit like she was a lost child following meekly behind Rosalie. She’d said maybe a dozen words to their potentials. “It’s nice to meet you.”