"Oh it has been too long, truly! Like, what, years now? Gosh, time really does fly huh? And you've gotten so tall, don't you know? Why, last we met you didn't even reach my hip, and now you're up to my shoulder! Oh and you've gotten so cute, too! I bet you must be beating the boys off with a stick to keep them at bay. Or, well, with a mace. Hm, I should look into getting one of those myself…"

Palmira shrugged, giving a weak smile as the woman sitting across from her continued to chatter endlessly on this and that and everything in between. The café they were eating at overlooked the grand River Rozzi which cut through the city of Firozzi. It was far more upscale than she was really comfortable with, with her only consolation being that she wasn't paying for anything.

"…and Benjaman wore the most gaudy robes to the last guild meeting, but when I pointed it out Yuri was all 'oh it's in fashion in the south.' Bleh, as if I don't know what is and isn't popular, it's okay to admit your husband is ugly, we won't hold it against you…"

Palmira nodded along, trying to keep up despite her growing headache. The Nymph was just so damn bubbly, and it was difficult for her to match her old friend's energy.

Not that Spinosa seemed to mind. The Rose Nymph took her continued silence as tacit approval to continue as she lounged against a bed of thorny vines nearly twice her size, the massive growth having followed the woman everywhere she went. A bob of blood red rose petals shifted as she bounced cheerfully against it, her 'hair' having been restyled to a more chic look since last they'd met. It went surprisingly well with the spiky black dress she strutted down the streets in, giving the woman a look that could best be described as 'elegant punk princess.'

It had been a couple days now since the All Saints Day tournament and the sudden attack that had prematurely ended it. Most of that time had been spent on clean up and repair between the religious events that were nominally supposed to continue over the course of the week. Those days had been far more grueling than anyone had been prepared for, and now that they were over it seemed everyone needed a holiday from the holiday.

But now that had calmed down Spinosa the Rose Nymph had made good on her promise to catch up, bursting into the guildhall in the middle of the day and declaring that Palmira would be joining her on a long-overdue 'girl's day out.' As she had not been informed beforehand she was hesitant, at least until she learned it would be the woman's treat—at which point she eagerly followed along.

Free food was free food.

Chiara had been incensed at the woman's audacity—to the point that even when she'd been offered to tag along the Half-Elf had refused out of spite.

Knowing her other friend she'd be sulking about that for the rest of the day, so Palmira resolved to pick her up something nice on the way back to make it up to her.

"Ah, but where are my manners!" Spinosa slapped her cheeks gently, drawing a faint line of greenish blood from where the spikes sliced her cheeks. "I'm sorry dearie, I've spent so much time prattling yet I haven't even given you a chance to speak. Like, how've things been? Are you doing alright?"

Palmira smiled at the other woman, even as she held back a wince at how loud she was being. She must not have gotten enough sleep last night, as ever since she'd woken up she'd been suffering from an absolutely pounding headache that was only barely kept at bay by the cups of bitter coffee she'd been chugging since she'd sat down.

Damn her constant dreams and damn Vesuvius for never shutting the hell up.

"It's been… well, the invasion was not great," she shrugged, shuffling the casserole around on her plate. She wasn't that hungry, but she forced herself to eat. It was an old habit from the streets, but even now in the back of her mind she worried when she'd get her next meal. "But things have been kind of looking up for me personally, you know? Which feels weird, when things are getting bad for other people. I've got a job and a roof over my head now, which is more than I can say than before."

Spinosa nodded sympathetically. "Oh, I understand that well dearie," she sighed, resting a hand over her heart. "Like, I regret so much not being able to take you two in back in the day, but… well, even now Pedemoa isn't the safest place for children."

"Is it really that dangerous?" Palmira frowned at the thought. She knew how dangerous cities could be for young girls, but to hear someone specifically call a place unsafe for children was… "What's so bad about it?"

"What isn't?" the Nymph let out a loud angry snort. "It's an example of a city which outgrew its own administration far too quickly, and which refuses to stop. The local guilds are not… like, let's not mince words here. In every other city they'd be branded criminal enterprises at best and insurgents to be put down at worst. Smuggling, slavery, tax-evasion, there's no low those men won't sink to in order to shove ever more gold into their bloated bank accounts. You know it's said you can count the minutes in a day by the murders committed—and the seconds at night. And I don't disagree with that statement in the slightest."

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She could do little more than stare in shock at that. "Really? I knew it was bad, but not that bad."

"Like, let me put it this way. We've gone through three Podestas in the past year, because each one has somehow pissed off one of the guilds enough to get killed in their own home. Our job as adventurers is more often dealing with our own criminals than it is dealing with monsters—if anything, the monsters are kinder."

Palmira didn't know what to say to that.

Spinosa let out a long sigh, shaking her head. "I'm sorry, dearie. We've gotten onto some rather bleak topics. It's totally killed the mood."

"I mean, it's not that bad?" she offered, before realizing that probably wasn't the right thing to say. "Er, no, I mean, it's nice to hear that a Demon invasion isn't the worst thing to—no, I mean—!"

The Nymph's laughter cut her off, and it was all Palmira could do not to combust in embarrassment.

"It's fine, dearie, it's fine," she waved off her mortification. "I suppose it is nice to learn you aren't the only person with problems in the world. But I think it's high time we moved on to lighter topics."

Yes please. "What do you have in mind?"

"Well," Spinosa tapped her chin eyes roving up and down her body. Suddenly she was much less sure of whatever this would be. "It's been ages since we last met, but every time I see you you're dressed so drab. Mottled brown, really? That is so last season."

Somehow this was worse than the previous conversation. "What's wrong with what I'm wearing?" she wrapped her arms around her body protectively. "And it's not like I have the money for clothes anyway!"

"Come now dearie," the Nymph shook her head in mock exasperation, a sly grin growing across her face. "I did tell you today would be my treat. And what better treat is there then dressing up such a cute little thing like you in something actually fashionable."

It was at this point that Palmira became trapped between two sides of herself.

On the one hand, this felt like a trap. That if she agreed she'd be diving into a hell of her own making, opening up a door that she might never again be able to shut.

On the other hand…

Free clothes.

In the end, there was really only one option.

-<X>-

Five hours later and a bag of new clothes in hand, Palmira finally found herself on the way back to the guildhall.

It had, admittedly, not been as bad as she'd feared. Spinosa spent the first two or so hours on a tear, dragging her to what felt like every boutique in the city to dress her up in every outfit she could get her hands on. But once she got that madness out of her system she was actually very helpful in finding clothes that both looked good and were cheap enough that she didn't feel like she was ripping off her older friend. And in the end she managed to come out of it with a few new tunics and skirts that didn't make her feel like an emaciated child when wearing.

She'd even managed to find a cute scarf for Chiara!

It was, by most accounts, a good day. There was just one, increasingly frustrating problem.

Her headache had only gotten worse as the day had gone on. A dull throb which had started behind her eyes and then grown rapidly. It pushed down into her sinuses and clamped down on the sides of her skull like a tic that just refused to let go.

"I can't wait to get back," she hissed, stopping to rub her eyes again. It was reaching the point it was difficult to keep them open, as every step she took was interspersed by minutes to stop and gather herself lest she stumble like a drunkard all the way home.

"I think you should see Teresa before you head to bed," Morte informed her, the possessed staff sounding rather worried. Not that she could tell, as his voice crashed like a gong into her skull, forcing her to rub her ears as if that could block out a telepathic whisper. "Even if it's nothing, I'm certain it'll help with the pain."

"S-shh…" she shushed him quietly, taking deep, slow breathes. "Hurts…"

He quieted down at that, thankfully, and after a couple minutes of calming herself she managed to focus enough to get moving again.

She slowly shuffled her way through the streets, keeping to the lit paths where she could. It was night now, and somehow Firozzi seemed scarier than she remembered. Everywhere she looked was snapshots of empty alleyways shuffled between temporary blackouts as she forced herself to stop. If she hadn't long since memorized these streets by heart she'd have no idea if she was going the right way. But luckily her feet remembered what her mind was too occupied to comprehend.

Perhaps it wasn't that the city felt more dangerous, but that she felt less. It had been weeks—no, years, since she'd felt this helpless. Any mugger could walk up and stab her now and she was so crippled by pain there'd be nothing she could do.

A part of her wished she'd begged Spinosa to walk her home, but a larger part of her vehemently denied that thought.

She had lived here for years. She wasn't a child, she didn't need a stranger's help to walk home.

Her skull exploded in agony, the migraine suddenly ratcheting up from merely 'very painful' to 'oh Goddess I'm having a stroke.'

"I…" she rasped, doubling over from the pain. Her head felt hot in a way she couldn't ever remember experiencing, and her eyes burned with tears that would have blocked her sight if not for the black spots that relentlessly exploded in her vision. She fell to her knees, hands digging into her hair as the whole of her body ignited into flames. "Mor… te…!"

"Palmira!?" he sounded… so much further away than she remembered. Why…? When had he ever felt so far…? "Shit, fuck, can… me!? Are you… You're burning… Palmira!"

His voice faded away as all she could focus on was her own breathing and the desecration of her skull. Red mixed in with the black spots as her jaw fell open in a wordless howl of agony. The heat turned to a burning ice which dug its frigid fingers into her brain, deeper and deeper and—

The pain suddenly spiked, and her world was consumed by blessed darkness.

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