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Day Seventy (Mog)
The Lane Between shuts, and Mog returns to his shop, turning the sign to ‘CLOSED’ as he shuts the door.
With a flicker of grey smoke, a familiar Chirithy appears on the counter: Mog’s never seen its keybearer before, never even seen it in the company of a human, but the unique violet tint to its fur, and the red buttons sewn in where its eyes should be, makes it distinctive, at the very least.
“I did what you asked, kupo,” Mog says.
“Why so glum?” The Dark Chirithy replies. “You get something out of this too, after all.”
“I just don’t like tricking my favourite customer.”
For a moment, Mog sees something like sheer, blind rage cross the Dark Chirithy’s face, like he broke some kind of unspoken rule. The Dark Chirithy turns away from him, playing absently with the shop’s cash register.
“A trick, you say,” he murmurs, very calmly. “It’s nothing of the sort. The boy’s goals and mine are aligned in this instance, after all.”
Mog opens his mouth to say something, but the Dark Chirithy cuts him off.
“I’m sure I’ll be needing you again in the future, Mog,” he says. “I’ll be counting on you then.”
He vanishes, leaving Mog alone in his shop, to wait and see what news arrives from the Dwarf Woodlands.
With a flicker of grey smoke, a familiar Chirithy appears on the counter: Mog’s never seen its keybearer before, never even seen it in the company of a human, but the unique violet tint to its fur, and the red buttons sewn in where its eyes should be, makes it distinctive, at the very least.
“Oh, right, before I forget. If a wielder is overcome by malice, or rather if their heart is tainted by darkness,” the Master said, wiggling his fingers, “their adorable Spirit Chirithy will turn dark and become a Nightmare.”
“So, you’re telling us that if we see a Nightmare Chirithy …” Ira started.
“Someone has fallen into darkness,” Invi finished.
“Exactly!” The Master chirped. “And if you don’t stop this … renegade … Chirithy, then it’ll plant darkness in the hearts of others.”
“So, you’re telling us that if we see a Nightmare Chirithy …” Ira started.
“Someone has fallen into darkness,” Invi finished.
“Exactly!” The Master chirped. “And if you don’t stop this … renegade … Chirithy, then it’ll plant darkness in the hearts of others.”
“I did what you asked, kupo,” Mog says.
“Why so glum?” The Dark Chirithy replies. “You get something out of this too, after all.”
“I just don’t like tricking my favourite customer.”
For a moment, Mog sees something like sheer, blind rage cross the Dark Chirithy’s face, like he broke some kind of unspoken rule. The Dark Chirithy turns away from him, playing absently with the shop’s cash register.
“A trick, you say,” he murmurs, very calmly. “It’s nothing of the sort. The boy’s goals and mine are aligned in this instance, after all.”
Mog opens his mouth to say something, but the Dark Chirithy cuts him off.
“I’m sure I’ll be needing you again in the future, Mog,” he says. “I’ll be counting on you then.”
He vanishes, leaving Mog alone in his shop, to wait and see what news arrives from the Dwarf Woodlands.