A Journey Unwanted

[Realm: Uhorus]

[Location: Galadriel]

[Capital City]

The park looked lifeless.

It was an odd kind of lifelessness too, it didn’t come from any kind of decay. The grass remained vigorous and green, the trees were full, their leaves undisturbed, swaying with a breeze that carried no laughter with it. The paths were still neat, carefully laid stone unmarred by neglect. Bushes were trimmed to perfection, shaped with the same care they always had been. Even the benches looked as good as new, polished wood untouched by wear. And yet it was all dull. No children pranced about, no footsteps racing across the paths. No friends lingered in conversation, and no couples sat close together enjoying the quiet. The space existed exactly as it always had—only now it meant nothing.

Mirabella stood still for longer than she intended, her gaze drifting across the empty paths without really focusing on anything. The silence pressed in more than she liked.

She remembered a time she took her little sister to this place. The memory surfaced without warning, vivid as always. The girl always acted all dignified, always so composed when others were watching, like she had something to prove. But here she let that act slip. She would run ahead, laugh too loudly, and forget herself entirely. Mirabella could still picture it—the way she had tried to hide her excitement at first, only to give in a moment later.

Now it was lifeless.

"I did not take you for one to enjoy scenery. You’ve been staring there for some time now." Agatha’s voice came from beside her, breaking through the silence.

Mirabella didn’t look at her immediately. When she did, it was with a small, annoyed glance; she defaulted to the look more out of habit than actual irritation. "I just used to come here, is all," she said, her tone flatter than usual, lacking its usual bite.

Agatha regarded her for a moment, her emerald eyes unreadable. "You in a park is quite the odd picture," she noted. There was no mockery in her voice or inflection to soften or sharpen her words.

That alone was enough to irritate Mirabella.

"The hell’s that supposed to mean?" she shot back, her brow furrowing slightly as she turned more fully toward her. "Even I liked doing normal things." There was a small emphasis on that last word, like she needed to remind both of them it had once been true.

Agatha hummed quietly in response, neither agreeing nor disagreeing. Whether she actually cared was anyone’s guess. Her attention drifted away just as easily, her gaze lifting toward the sky. There was still no apparent emotion in her expression, but the shift itself said enough.

Mirabella followed her gaze after a second, her lips pressing together before she spoke again.

"It looks so damn ugly every time I look at it," she muttered, the irritation in her voice returning, though this time it wasn’t directed at Agatha. Her eyes narrowed slightly as they settled on the fractured sky above—the unnatural tears and the slow spill of that black substance that didn’t belong. She didn’t need to understand the Abyss to feel it. "I don’t know much about that ’Abyss’ crap," she continued, her tone rougher, "but you don’t need to be some scholar to see how putrid it is. It just sits there, like it’s rotting everything without even touching it." She exhaled sharply. "Figures that’s where demons come from."

Agatha didn’t respond immediately. Her arms folded loosely as she continued to observe the sky, as if measuring something.

"How long do you think until we’re called out again?" Mirabella went on, her voice quieter but no less tense. "Just to fight more of those things." There was no dramatics in the way she said it, but her exhaustion was clear.

"Not long," Agatha answered after a brief pause. "Most cities are still standing, but that only means the Abyssal Creatures will increase their efforts accordingly." Her tone remained neutral, but there was a tension behind the words. "Pressure invites escalation." She glanced at Mirabella briefly. "You sound listless already."

Mirabella let out a short scoff, turning away slightly as she flicked a strand of hair from her face. "As if," she muttered. "If nothing else, I’m getting stronger." She hesitated for half a second before adding, more quietly, "Even if all I’ve been doing is killing fodder."

That made Agatha’s expression shift—small, but noticeably. One brow lifted just slightly, her gaze sharpening as she recalled something. "You have been rather rigorous in your training," she said. "More so than usual." There was a small pause before she added, almost idly, "Opting to impress a certain someone?"

Mirabella’s reaction was immediate.

"Like hell I care about impressing that idiot," she snapped, the words coming out faster than she likely intended. Her arms crossed tightly, shoulders tensing just enough to give her away.

Agatha didn’t look surprised.

"I did not mention anyone in particular," she pointed out calmly.

Mirabella held her gaze for a moment, then clicked her tongue and looked away, clearly unwilling to walk that back. "Yeah, yeah," she muttered, her tone dismissive, though it lacked its usual confidence. "You didn’t have to."

There was a brief silence after that, it wasn’t entirely uncomfortable, but not easy either. The empty park only made it more noticeable.

Mirabella shifted her weight slightly, her eyes drifting back to the path ahead before she spoke again.

"Ugh... come on," she said under her breath, more to herself than anything. "I think we all know that guy is still on our mind, idiot that he is."

"How easily you admit to it," Agatha gave a light hum, her voice neutral and her expression not changing in the slightest. There was no smirk or teasing curve to her lips—just that same composed expression she always carried. "I was expecting to see a blushing mess," she added after a beat, almost thoughtfully. "A pity."

Mirabella’s head snapped toward her, irritation immediate. "Why the hell would I be blushing?" she shot back, her tone defensive, something that came just a bit too quickly to be entirely controlled.

Agatha didn’t react to the tone. She simply shrugged lightly, as if the question itself didn’t require much thought. "Who knows?" she replied, her voice absent of any real investment in the answer.

That indifference only made it worse.

Mirabella exhaled through her nose, her brows knitting together as she looked away for a moment before glancing back again. "Come on, just spit it out already and stop being vague," she huffed, folding her arms tighter across her chest. "It’s always annoying when you do that."

Agatha didn’t respond right away. Instead, she lifted a hand and cupped her chin, her fingers resting lightly against her jaw as if she were genuinely considering something. Her gaze drifted, unfocused for a moment.

Then, without any shift in tone to signal it, she spoke.

"Do you hope to see him soon?"

The question was asked without embellishment, and for once it actually caught Mirabella off guard.

"...Huh?" The princess blinked, her irritation faltering into confusion as she stared at Agatha. "Where did that even come from?" she asked, her head tilting slightly as if trying to find the logic in the jump.

Agatha’s eyes met hers then, and for the first time there was something there—not a dramatic shift or anything overt, but a small softening at the edges.

"It’s been more than a month since he disappeared," Agatha said, her voice lowering just slightly. The words were careful; she probably already went over them in her mind before speaking. "And everything since then..." She paused briefly, her gaze turning toward the empty park, the silent paths, and the still trees. "...feels dull." The last word came quieter, almost like she hadn’t intended to say it out loud.

Mirabella’s expression shifted as she watched her, the annoyance fading into a more contemplative look.

"...Without him?" she finished, her voice less certain than before.

Agatha didn’t answer verbally this time. She simply nodded once.

There was just a simple confirmation that carried more importance than anything she might have said.

A brief silence followed.

"Honestly..." Agatha continued after a moment, her gaze lifting slightly though it didn’t settle on anything in particular. "I doubt we need to worry." Her tone steadied again. "Mikoto is stronger than us put together." There was no hesitation in that statement; it was simply a fact, as far as she was concerned. "Even so..." she added, more quietly, "...they still have no answer as to where he disappeared to."

That was the part that lingered.

Mirabella frowned at that, her jaw tightening slightly as she looked down toward the pavement beneath her sabatons. The stone was clean and undisturbed—another thing that felt wrong in its normalcy.

"Why’d you have to go and bring this up," she muttered, clicking her tongue under her breath. It wasn’t really directed at Agatha, not fully at least. More like she was pushing back against the feeling.

Agatha didn’t seem bothered by the reaction.

"We are Mikoto’s friends," she said simply, as if that alone justified the conversation. Her tone wasn’t forceful, but it didn’t leave room for dismissal. "I wanted to see if the worry was mutual."

With that, she shifted her weight and began to move forward, her steps calm, as though the conversation had reached its natural end.

Mirabella lingered for a second, watching her go with a small crease in her brow.

"Huh?" she called after her, pushing off to follow a step behind. "What’s that supposed to mean?"

Agatha didn’t answer.