Page 85 of The Fake Divination Offense
“Oh, yes, there was also an abduction by the Galaxrien cult. But did youseeAlexo’s outfit? We have a clip from the red carpet; can we pull it up?”
*the softest tinkling sound ever*
“I… I hadn’t thought about the ramifications of Galaxrien cultists attacking an Urzoth worshipper in terms of the larger ecumenical association of those two religions, Begmi. How—oh, oh, that’s what you came on here to talk about? Um. Well. I guess we can save the outfit breakdown for after the commercials.”
Bel has to ride back to Philly on the cheerleaders’ bus. I have to ride back on the players’ bus. I haven’t seen Gulus since he vanished from our room, but he’s probably lurking around somewhere, right?
It’s only a two-hour trip. More or less.
I can handle that.
It’d draw unnecessary attention if I suddenly insisted on changes—we’ve had team travel before, and I was always fine with us being separated. But now?
I’m twitchy and keep glancing out the bus window to spot the cheerleaders ahead of us.
Next time we have an away game, I’ll… figure something out. The coaches like the team to travel together; unity and shit, and yeah, that does matter—Darian’s strumming his guitar in the back, and half the team is valiantly attempting to sing along to “Bohemian Rhapsody.” Aaron’s actually nailing the falsetto parts; who knew? Phei’s taken the form of a coconut tree, and they’re rattling around on percussion.
But Bel’s away from me, vulnerable unless Gulus is hiding on his bus, and it’s fucking meup.
The separation is only for a few hours, then we’ll be back in Philly and he won’t need to leave my side.
Speaking of which.
I message Seb about laying wards around my apartment. I haven’t done spell work since college; if I want it done right, I need Seb and Thio. Given I provide no context for my sudden urge to lock down my place, his responding texts are appropriately confused. But I didn’t get a chance to tell Bel about Seb yet, to ask if I can bring him in. I will today.
I also shoot off an email to my building’s owner to start ramping up their security.
And I ignore the messages from Roesia Sombercrown, and Treva, and Reverend Drach’s people. They want to talk about the cultist attack and how it affects Urzoth’s church now that a member was abducted.
But talking about that will force me to acknowledge whatI’ve done in committing to protect Bel. How it affects my ties to Urzoth.
I’m not ready to think about that yet.
I order components for every conceivable safety spell I can think of, all on overnight delivery—
Darian plops onto the seat next to me. “No time for losers,” he says, strumming his guitar.
I look up.
To see the whole damn bus staring at me.
Feels like I’ve missed something.
“No time for losers,” Darian says again, harder, and I recognize the chords for “We Are the Champions.” “You’re the only one not singing,” he stage-whispers at me.
“I didn’t think your god liked me singing his songs,” I stage-whisper back. “Something about inflicting emotional damage on the unknowing public.”
He smirks, all straight white teeth and potent charm. “He’s in a good mood; we won, and we’re on track to berawball champions!” He shouts the last words and the whole bus roars ecstatic agreement.
I laugh. “Should we say that? Could jinx us.”
“Meh.” Darian wrinkles his nose. “Confidence cancels out the jinx.Sing. My god’s hoping the rest of these turds singing will cover up your screeching.”
“Hey,” Aaron mopes.
“You all sound like shit to me,” Marlow signs, and someone lobs a water bottle at her.
“No time for losers,” Darian prods again. “Don’t be a loser.”
