Just a little something I've been working on. Nothing like an idea I'm passionate about with a pairing no one has done in a game everyone that has played has moved on from ;)

Chapter One

Blue: Good day?

Yellow: another day of people not appreciating my art. you know, the usual

Blue: Send me pictures.

Yellow: havent made anything worthy for your eyes yet

Blue: I just want to see something you painted. Is that too much for a girl to ask?

Yellow: your expectations are waaaay too high for what i do. once i make something thatll live up to them ill show you

Blue:

Yellow: cmon babe, its just something i have to do

Blue: Ok.

Yellow: are you mad at me?

Blue: I just want to support you and help you, but you won't let me in. I want to be with you, but you make it hard.

Yellow:

Yellow: do you want to meet up for a date?

Blue: What do you mean

Yellow: face to face. call it my apology

Blue: Apology accepted!

Blue: I can't wait to see you! When do you want to?

Yellow: give me a little time to round up a bit of cash. ill let you know

Heather typed a quick goodbye and strut to her shithole apartment's bathroom. The cracked mirror, broken from drunken elegance, showed her in all her anxiety.

"Holy shit," Heather gasped, cranking the water on and splashing her face. Drops falling off her cheeks, she looked up again. "Heather, you dumb fuck."

She laughed. It was shaky, wrought with nerves still working their way out of her body. Now she had to figure out where she was going to get the money to take Blue out on a date.

Good thing Sothe had something for her. At least, she hoped he did. He'd asked her to meet tonight and he never had done that before.

Heather dried her face and snatched her worn coat off the back of a chair. The chair was probably a better article, as it was one of the only pieces of furniture she owned. The chair, the bed and the table.

Ashera, what if things went well on their date? What if Blue wanted to come back to her place?

"You've fucked yourself this time, Heather," she groaned, stepping out into the night air.

Crimea certainly had its fine points and none of them were anywhere close to where Heather lived or operated. Some would call this part of Melior the slums, but Heather preferred the word 'home'.

"Motherfucker," Heather spat as the first trickle of raindrops began. Cars drove past, their lights providing more light than the streetlamps did. Popping her collar up against the wind, she trekked past the dingy storefronts, many of which had long gone out of business.

A cacophonous boom resounded in the distance. Thunder. Not for the first time that day, Heather wished she had a car.

Lady Luck must have been watching her for once, because as Heather put her hand on the doorknob of their meeting place, the downpour began. She fingered the key and popped it into the lock.

A television echoed through the hall of the foreclosed building. Sothe had a friend at the bank that let him stay there and run his 'business' in its walls. It reminded Heather of her place, but with extra furniture.

"—is yet another example of the troubled reign of Elincia Ridell Crimea. Some say these scandals are just more nails on her coffin. The Queen's popularity plummets across the country, Melior withstanding. In Felirae, a riot broke out, but was quickly quelled by—"

The word MUTE appeared on the TV as Sothe pointed the remote at the screen. He jumped up, not sparing her a greeting. Heather shrugged and took a seat. Unlike her, Sothe actually owned another chair.

Sothe typed on his phone in a flurry. His muscles were tensed and breathing heavy. Heather's hands tensed on the armrests, alarm bells ringing in her mind.

"Sothe." His name got his attention. The green haired man turned to her, finally giving Heather his attention. "Why am I here?"

"I was contacted by someone who has a job for us. Well, more for you. Well paying." Sothe's words were clipped, almost as if he were worried he'd say too much. Heather's eyes narrowed. He wasn't telling her everything.

Down the hall, the door creaked open, then shut quietly. Footsteps struck the wood, water flecking onto the walls audibly.

A tall man stepped into view, face completely dry as he closed an umbrella. He leaned it against a wall, not caring about the water that dripped onto the floor. He lowered the hood of his sweatshirt, revealing a handsome face.

"Heather, right?" he asked, his voice soft, almost comforting if not for the doubt clawing at the back of Heather's mind. She nodded and he took the seat across from her.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Heather," the man said, sighing as he sat down. "I won't waste time with pleasantries. I'm here on behalf of a client, the middleman, if you will. According to Sothe here, you're quite the talent with spray paint. He showed me some of your graffiti exposés."

"I'm good at what I do," Heather shrugged, resisting the temptation to look at Sothe. "You never told me your name or your client's."

"My client's identity must remain unknown. It is paramount, you understand. As for me, most call me the Fireman," he said, searching for something in her eyes. Whatever he looked for, the next moment he stopped.

"What do you want me to do?" Heather asked, looking over the Fireman. His clothes were baggy, but Heather had good eyes. She saw the physique of a dangerous man.

"What you're good at: art," he supplied simply. "In short, my client wants to commission several of your pieces in some public places."

"How public?"

"Public," he answered, stressed even.

"How much will I be payed?"

The Fireman smiled. "My client is prepared to pay you one hundred thousand gold for the first piece. Another one hundred thousand for each successive piece on top of that as well."

Heather gaped. One hundred thousand? With that kind of money, her mother would never have to worry about her finances. Hell, Heather could finally get out of her shithole of an apartment. Or at least furnish it.

"So you'll pay me a hundred grand for each piece?" Heather reiterated.

The Fireman laughed. "You misunderstand. The first piece will be one hundred thousand, the second two hundred, third three hundred, and so on."

Sothe's audible gasp of disbelief went unheard to Heather as she stared at the Fireman. Her mind was counting the coins, too wary to believe it. "What will I have to do?"

"Like I said, what you're good at. My client wishes to take advantage of the current political climate." A hand gestured to the muted TV. The bar read: QUEEN ELINCIA HAVING AN AFFAIR WITH LUCIA DELBRAY? A picture plastered across the screen showed Elincia embracing a woman with long blue hair tightly. "Our Queen is hardly in the good graces of the public. Your role will be to spread some messages across Melior. I am afraid I cannot tell you anymore until you agree to this job."

Heather's eyes lingered on the TV, watching Elincia frozen in time. The picture didn't look like any sort of romantic hug she'd ever seen, but Heather hardly cared for politics. She'd made her way fine in the world without them.

"Anything you can tell me about these public places?"

"Sothe tells me you're quick at what you do." The Fireman's eyes flicked to the green haired man lingering in the background. "If you're as fast at graffitiing as he says, I figure you've nothing to worry about as far as getting caught."

Heather's eyes went to Sothe, looking for anything. But the man was entirely focused on the Fireman, giving her nothing.

"What do you say, Heather?" The Fireman leaned forward, eyes searching her face. "I need an answer before I walk out of that door."

She bit her lip. "Can I change my mind later if I agree?"

Whatever levity the Fireman had withered as he leaned back. "It would be for the best if you stuck with this. You will be well compensated, as I said before."

Heather thought of her empty wallet. Her mother. Blue.

"I'll do it," she said.

"Wonderful." He plucked an envelope from his pocket. "Your instructions are in there. We will know once you complete this commission and contact you with further information on your next commissions after." His eyes grew hard. "Do not try to contact me. Talk to Sothe and if circumstances require it, I'll find you. Am I clear?"

"Crystal." Her breath felt trapped in her lungs, afraid to leave.

"I look forward to seeing your work, Heather." The Fireman stood up and grabbed his umbrella. Flipping his hood back up, he walked to the door.

Heather broke the seal on the envelope. A sheet of paper with typed instructions came out, along with a picture. The sigil of the Crimean royal family. But the tree was dead, wilted. Beneath it, 'Elincia's Crimea'.

Author Notes: This is something that came to me. It began as a oneshot, then as a short chaptered fic. Now it's become something longer. I look forward to sharing this story with you!

My original plan for this secret project was to write it all, then post it. Uh, that's not going to happen now. I like getting feedback by chapter too much, honestly. And I want the motivation to finish this story! I've got at least fifty percent of it done, so that's cool. In envision this in the teens in terms of chapters, so buckle up!

Writing Tunes – The Holographic Principle (Epica)

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