Most of the answers in Hilda's inbox are spam and super unhelpful. Figures that's what she gets for asking the internet for help.

No way, not without an ID

Lol nbdy gonna hire a minor even if ur 16 r u stupid lolololol

Stay in school kiddo

Sex worker always an option just saiyan ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

She deletes every single message except the last one, mainly because it makes her snort and choke on her last fry. It's stupid and crass, but hey, she'll take her chuckles where she can get them, especially now that her money's practically run dry. That last milkshake is what did her wallet in, and maaaan does she regret it now, but it's the third night in a row she's camped out at this 24 hours McDonald's, and if she has to have just french fries for dinner AGAIN her stomach's going to scream, and she's going to scream along with it.

And now all this thinking is making her head hurt. With a sigh, she lays her head down on the greasy table. She'll deal with the zits tomorrow. Or never. Whatever comes first.

It shouldn't be this freaking hard for a girl to find a freaking job that isn't a sex worker or sweatshop slave in Garreg Mach. It's the largest city on Fodlan for crying out loud. It's supposed to be the city where dreams come true, according to all the movies and tv shows she's binged. Or, more specifically, the city where her dreams were supposed to come true. Far far away from the boring countryside, far away from parents who don't care and an obsessive brother who cares too much.

It was supposed to be the one place where it didn't feel like she was suffocating.

Instead, all she feels is balls to the walls tired. And wet. Ugh, does it ever stop raining in Garreg Mach? She's sick to death of the feeling of moist, squelchy socks. And being the genius that she is, she's only got the one pair because genius over here thought she'd be rolling in the cash within the first day and she'd have enough dough to buy all the socks she wanted.

Ha. Hillarious. She can't even buy tic-tacs with the change left rolling around at the bottom of her purse.

The pressure behind her eyes is killing her, and it sucks. Everything sucks. She's tired. She hungry and cold and sick, and it sucks, the rain sucks, Garreg Mach sucks, and all she wants to do is just breathe.

Even if it feels like she's drowning in the rain.

"Um... e-excuse me...?"

Hilda's never lifted her head faster from a table and ahhhhhh, crap, sudden bright lights, that's just great for her headache, yeah, thanks.

"Look, I bought some stupid fries so you can't kick me out, I'm a customer."

So maybe Hilda's feeling a little crabby, but it's been three days since her last warm shower, and she feels sticky and uncomfortable and gross, so whoever the poor sap is, they're just going to have to deal.

Said poor sap turns out to be a poor underpaid fast-food worker who flinches back at the harsh tone in her voice.

"Uhm, n-no, that's f-fine," she stammers out, looking one stiff breeze away from keeling over herself. Seriously, Hilda could probably use the circles beneath her eyes as a sleeping bag. "I-I'm s-sorry, I didn't- y-you looked, uhmm, asleep... and I didn't know how to w-wake you and... and...umm, w-well..."

The girl sets the carton down on the table. Big Mac. Smells delicious. Hilda would know. She's been in here long enough that she's gained the ability to differentiate a quarter pounder from a grilled chicken from smell alone. Life skills to keep.

"I can't pay for this." It physically hurts to say. Hilda can just imagine her stomach crying big fat tears right now, screaming in the way stomachs do when she has to tell it NO.

But the girl just shakes her head, a few strands of blue hair slipping out of her untidy braid. She tucks them behind her ear, but they end up falling out again. She doesn't notice.

"On the house. You looked like you could use a... umm... a pick-me up."

Hilda blinks. This coming from the girl who looks like one slip away from a trip to the ER. Carefully, she pops the carton open. Candid Camera may have been a decade ago, but YouTube prank compilations are still alive and kicking, even in this day and age. Besides, hidden cameras nowadays can get pretty small without sacrificing their resolution, even if they have to be packed in between two slices of lettuce and a sad excuse for a tomato.

But there's nothing. No secret camera, no hidden audience, and no laugh track playing in the background as the joke to her life. Just plain old burger from what she can tell.

Well, even if it's a joke, it's a pretty weak one because a free burger is still a free burger, so, whatever.

"Thanks. I owe you one."

But when Hilda looks up, the girl is already gone.

Ooookay. A little rude, to be honest. But then again, not like Hilda's been the queen of hospitality lately, and also, free Big Mac. So, whatever.

She takes a bite, and it's not an understatement to say that it's the best damn burger she's ever tasted in her life because it is honestly the best damn burger she's ever tasted in her life. If her stomach had tear ducts, they'd be overflowing right now.

Thank you, underpaid burger girl, I'll never look down on the fast food industry ever again.

Some of the sauce dribbles down her chin. Ugh, grossssss. But the napkins are at the other end of the McDonalds, meaning she has to get up and feel her socks squelch in her shoes. Extra gross. Maybe there's like, a spare tissue left or something in her purse. She reaches down into her purse, unclasping it.

She rifles around. Stick of gum, her phone, tube of lipstick that's cracked in half, so now it's just a tube of trash or a $50 rose-gold highlighter, take your pick. And a business card.

Business card? Curious, she takes it out, holding it up to the cheap LED lights.

Cichol and Co. Editorials

Our business is in faith itself

For all business inquiries, please contact us at...

Oooooh riiiiight. The memory of nearly drowning on the ship to Garreg Mach floats up in Hilda's mind. Honestly, the only reason she isn't fish food right now is because of that one guy with the stern-ish face who was quick enough to grab her hand and stop her from capsizing straight into the ocean.

And then had the balls to lecture her for a good twenty minutes afterward on the "improper length of your skirt" and "the propriety of the Saints" or something like that. Honestly, she only took his business card to shut him up because, really, who cares about the last five centimeters. Absolutely no one, that's who.

She stares at the card for a moment longer. Spins it in her hand. Some of the ink smudges off on to her fingers.

Hilda sighs. She swipes open her phone and begins typing the numbers into the keypad.

So maybe Garreg Mach isn't the city of her dreams. Not yet anyway. It'll take some work before it can be, which sucks but, eh. She can be a big girl about it.

For now.

"Hi, is this, uh... Misssssssster Seteth? Am I saying that right? Oh good. This is Hilda Goneril, the girl from the ship, do you remember? Yep, yeah that's me. Ha, well, sorry to say, but the jeans are temporary. Rest assured, once it gets warmer, I'm switching back to what's in style!"

Hilda glances out the window. Raindrops softly pelt the window, scattering into a dozen little paths that all lead to the same place in the end.

Some dreams are worth working for.

"Anyway, I was wondering if your offer still stands...?"

So maybe working for a small (read: practically nonexistent) online news agency with a focus on faith-based miracles (read: really crappy magic tricks, like, seriously who even falls for the detachable thumb thing in this day and age) isn't exactly close to her actual dream of starting up her own personal artisan store. Heck, it might as well be drifting away in the sky with how freaking far away it is.

But a girl's gotta eat before she can dream big and at the very least, working for Seteth means three meals a day, a roof over her head to shield her from the rain (which still hasn't stopped, c'mon, it's been months) and most importantly, access to a hot shower.

(The first time Seteth showed her to the shared bathroom in the back of the agency, Hilda nearly cried. And then she took a shower so long that it racked up the water meter high enough that Seteth snapped it was coming out of her first paycheck.

Still totally worth it. )

At least the work is pretty easy and straightforward. Get tip, go to interview, and then write about whatever the sucker claims they saw on their way to good ol' Saint Seiros. Usually, it's a light at the end of a tunnel or a chorus of angelic voices or blah blah blah. Hilda's personal favorite is the one guy who swore the afterlife was just a big dark room with a little green gremlin that judged all his life choices like a disappointed mother. Sounds legit enough.

Too bad the novelty pretty much wears off in the first ten minutes. Thank goddess for Mercedes. Hilda likes her well enough. She's sweet, with a personality that reminds Hilda of cotton candy. A bit spacey. Has the patience of all four saints combined, which is great because it means the people ramble to Mercedes and not Hilda. She hmms and ahas in all the right places, and Hilda can just pretend to take notes on her phone and browse Etsy for inspiration on new trinket ideas.

It's a win-win for everyone.

"So, where to next?"

Mercedes fiddles with the company car's radio, landing on a channel that's playing something very loud, very thrashy. She puts the volume to a bearable level and bobs her head along to the screaming, smile pleased as punch.

Hilda locks her phone. "Hmmm... Early lunch?" she ventures forth brightly, because hey, you miss 100% of the shots you don't take.

Mercedes flashes her a patient smile, one that says, I respect you for trying, I really do.

"I thought we could get a headstart on our next story. You know the one Seteth was talking about in the morning. The sunshine maiden." She drops her voice down a pitch, putting on the world's silliest impression of their boss. "Legends say she's still brightening up the sky even to this day."

Which means driving across Garreg Mach in their pillbox of a car and listening to some old coot ramble on about a local legend that Hilda could care less about. Yeah. Definitely sounds like a fun way to spend a lazy, rainy afternoon.

"I mean, we could. Buuuuuuuuuuut, and hear me out, we could also go to Byleth's and pick up some of those scones we like so much, eh, eh?"

"You can't keep using my girlfriend as an excuse to get free pastries, you know that, Hilda."

Hilda's about to reply when something catches her eyes.

A flash of blue. Shoulders hunched in a blue hoodie that's two sizes too big for her. Eyes that look like death warmed over.

"Yeah. Yeah, you're right." Hilda clicks off her seatbelt, kicks open the door because it sticks and usually needs to be shown some tough love before it does anything. "Look, I gotta..." she wrestles the umbrella out of her purse and opens it. "I gotta go. I'll meet up with you there. Just, text me the address or something."

"Wha- Hilda, it's literally on the opposite side of the city! Where are you- Hilda!"

Tailing some, as it turns out, is way easier in the movies. At least in the movies, the camera pans to where the bad guys are going. And there's not a bucketful of rain to obscure the camera lenses. Seriously, she might as well be walking through a waterfall with how hard it's coming down.

And the two dudes with their arms around poor burger girl? Definitely the titular bad guys. Seriously, who dresses in a leopard print two-piece suit in broad daylight. Er, rain... light?

At least their atrocious fashion sense makes them easier to spot as they make their way down one of the seedier streets in Garreg Mach. A street that burger girl has no defensible right to be walking down. Nor does she looks like she wants to. Her umbrella is shaking like a leaf in the wind.

As they make their way into an alley, Hilda ducks behind a trash can and peers out. She chews her lip. Delicate flower that she is, Hilda's still fairly certain she can take on two goons who couldn't even make the extras list. She can give Holst a run for his money in an arm wrestle if she actually tries, after all. But burger girl could get hurt if she's not careful soooooo...

Plan B.

Fake it 'til you make it.

Hilda steps out, cupping one hand to her mouth. "Annette! Annette, hold up!"

Why Mercedes' roommate's name is the first name to come to her mind, Hilda has no idea. But it works. All three of them, including burger girl jump and stop in their tracks.

Perfect. Hilda lifts her umbrella higher and comes straight for them, woman on a mission.

"Oh mah gawd, Annette, I take one eye off of you and you end up getting lost, I swear to Sothis." She takes burger girl's hand in hers, ignoring the dumbstruck look on her face, and turns to the two bozos with a plaster smile. "Thanks so much for helping my friend find her way, she's terrible with directions, and the teacher will KILL us if we're late one more time."

One of the thugs actually takes a step back. "I thought you said she was 18!" he hisses to generic bozo A.

Bozo, A clearly the single brain cell of operation, frowns, stepping forward. "Wait a sec, which school do you go to? And why aren't you wearing a uniform?"

Plan C is to fake it until you can make a break for it. She bats her eyelashes. "Oh, you know, our school is pretty lax about that sort of stuff. Anyway, gotta go, byeeeeeee!"

"Hold up, you little-!"

Bozo A may be the brains of the bunch, but that's not saying much when there's only a single brain cell going around. He reaches a hand out, grabbing onto Hilda's shoulder, and honestly, that's perfect.

Hilda grabs his arm, twists around, and in a move that would've made Holst green with envy, pivots.

Bozo A screams and goes flying into the trash can with a loud metallic clang. Both burger girl and the other schmuck stare at the mess, jaws open. The umbrella actually falls out of burger girl's slack grip.

Faked it. Now time to make a break for it.

"Run!"

Hilda pulls burger girl into a sprint and starts running, ditching her umbrella into the wind. Burger girl lets out a surprised little 'eep!' and half-bows to Bozo A as they pass ("s-sorry, I'm sorry!") and what the hell, that's kinda cute and Hilda can't help but laugh into the rain as they race past the city lights.

The highrise they take shelter in, Goddess Tower Apartments, (ha, Seteth would've loved irony) is pretty much an abandoned dump in the middle of the city. Perfect for hiding away from scummy back alley con men. Not so great for hiding away from the rain, since every floor they go up seems to be missing the freaking roof. They're practically near the top before they find what looks like an old abandoned living room with partial ceiling and actual floorboards.

Hilda's in the middle of wringing out one of her twintails when burger girl speaks up.

"M-My name's not Annette."

Hilda tries not to start, because burger girl's voice is so quiet, it honestly sounds like a ghost. "Huh? Oh, no, yeah, that was just the first name that came to mind. Trust me, you look nothing like her." Hilda says, squeezing her hair harder. Gawds, she's so sick of the rain ruining everything about her appearance. "I'm Hilda, by the way."

"M-Marianne," she replies quietly, and oh thank Sothis, Hilda doesn't have to keep referring to her as burger girl in her head anymore. "I'm sorry for dragging you into that... mess."

Burger- dang it, Marianne seems to have an apologetic streak the size of the sky. It'd be kinda annoying if it weren't for the fact that she looks like a puppy that's been kicked around one too many times. And that she actually, really does sound sorry. Like, "everything in the whole world is my fault, so I'm apologizing for that" kind of sorry.

"Uhh, last I checked, I was the one who dragged me into that mess, so don't sweat it. Besides, I owe you, remember?"

Something clicks in Marianne's face. "O-oh, you- you're that trendy girl!" she says, and then flushes. "I-I mean..."

Trendy girl. Really? Hilda's starting to feel a little bad for both of their nonexistent nicknaming skills.

"Don't sweat it." Better trendy girl than burger chick, at the very least. "What were you doing with those losers anyway? Got tired of flipping buns for the corporate machine or something?"

"I-I was actually let go the day before yesterday," Marianne mutters, and oh, hello foot, meet mouth. Her fingers clutching nervously at the hem of her hoodie and Hilda's starting to realize everything about Marianne is just, nervous. From the way her shoulders are set to the way she can't seem to look Hilda in the eyes. "I w-was seeing those men for a job in w-working in their c-club."

"Wha- are you nuts?!" That has to be one of the stupidest ideas Hilda's ever heard, and she knows stupid in the running-away-from-home-with-only-one-pair-of-socks kind of stupid. "You know that's how they run those scams, don't you? Chat up pretty girls like you, give them a loan, and then force them to work in their sleazy cabarets when you can't pay back the insane interest!"

So maybe Hilda's rehashing the opening to that one yakuza flick she streamed the day before on Seteth's laptop. But like, whatever, that's totally how they do things in the big city anyway, she's 99% sure.

"I was out of options," says Marianne, and she looks way too young to sound so world-weary and tired. "Nobody else was going to hire someone like me."

"Uhh, more like no one in their right mind would hire a minor."

"I'll be eighteen in two months."

Hilda makes sure to keep her face completely still because, really? She's two years older? That's... huh.

"Well, they're still not gonna someone who likes they're skipping out on school." Hilda shrugs, filing away that little tidbit for later. "Trust me, I would know."

"I doubt it," says Marianne, again with that same tired acceptance, and it's getting so old, so fast. "I'm not like you. I'm cursed."

Oh boy. One of those.

"Uhhhhhh'kay?" Hilda squints and... nope, nope she can't see it. "I mean, you look a little... tired, I guess. But that's nothing a good night's sleep won't fix. Or makeup, if like, sleep isn't your thing." Which sounds stupid, but you can never really tell with those chunni types, with their head in the clouds of their favorite anime and delusions. "Yeah, you don't really strike me as cursed."

"Oh, really?" Marianne lifts her head, and Hilda takes a step back in surprise at the sudden spark in her eyes, something on the edge of frustration and raw anguish in her voice. "Would someone normal be able to do this?"

She puts her hands together and closes her eyes, looking to all the world like the world's most pained prayer.

There are an awkward few seconds where Hilda waits and...

Nothing happens.

Of course.

God, why do all the pretty ones have to be so weird?

"Right. Okay. I'm just going... you know," Hilda begins to say.

And then stops as the rain begins falling upwards.

"I- what the...?"

Hilda watches, slackjawed, as Marianne continues praying. She watches as the rain continues to go up, up, up, into the sky, slowly petering off into a light drizzle and then, into nothing.

Hallucination. It's totally a hallucination, brought upon Hilda's intense desire for one day where it doesn't rain, and she can see the sun. There's no other explanation for it, obviously, because pretty prayer girls who also just so happen to be waterbenders? Yeah, get real.

And then the sun comes out from behind the clouds, and Hilda knows, just knows, that it is real.

So real it hurts.

"Do you see now?" Marianne lowers her hands. The single ray of sunlight that falls onto her form doesn't match with the resignation in her eyes. As if she knows the horrible way this will all end. "I told you. I'm not normal."

Legends say she's still brightening up the sky to this day.

A sunshine maiden. An honest to goddess, girl of the sun. The stories were true. Nature's own remote control. She should be freaking out right now, questioning her sanity at the very least.

And yet, there's only one thought that goes through Hilda's mind as she raises her hand to shield her eyes from the first few rays of sunshine she's seen in months.

I never knew the sky could be so beautiful.

"You're right. You're not normal. You're awesome."

The sunshine girl nods her head along in sad acceptance- and then jerks back when the words finally process in her brain.

"I-I what?" N-no..." she shakes her head furiously. "No, I-I'm not. How... Can't you see- it's not normal. I'm a freak."

"The freaking best! I mean, look!" Hilda stretches her hand out even further. She can practically feel the sky rushing through her fingers. "Maaan, I'd forgotten just how warm sunlight could be."

Poor Marianne. She looks so lost and confused. It makes Hilda want to reach out and pinch her cheeks and help ground her from floating away.

"I...How... You..." She pauses. Takes a deep breath. "How... how are you not scared out of your wits by all...this?"

Fair question. "I am. A little bit," Hilda says honestly. "But like, I'm also way too happy right now to even think about being weirded out. I mean, look!" she points up, laughing in delight at what she see's. "It's the sky."

Marianne cranes her head upwards, just a fraction, a confused little tilt.

"It's... always been there?"

But Hilda just shakes her head, willing the sunshine girl to see what she sees. "Yeah, but it's so much more than just that. It's so blue! And big! And like, for the first time in forever, it feels like... like..."

She reaches her arm out further, trying to take all of the sky in the palm of her own two hands.

"Like life is worth living again. Like it's worth thriving in."

A smile is the only gift Hilda can give her right now, so she puts on the best, brightest one she has, one that'd make the sun jealous.

"Thanks for bringing back the color into my life, sunshine girl."

"O-oh!" The color that Hilda's compliment brings to Marianne's cheeks is very pink. Coincidentally, it's also very cute too. "I... I... ummm..."

Marianne's entire form is trembling like a leaf in the wind. Hilda reaches out, taking her hand in hers. They're surprisingly warm. Soft too. Hilda decides she likes the feeling. A lot.

"Y-you're welcome," says the sunshine girl, and when the tears start to flow, Hilda just laughs and reaches out to hug the sky a little closer to her heart.